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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27927892">i see the love behind (those crystal eyes)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoeyclarke/pseuds/zoeyclarke'>zoeyclarke</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Haunting of Bly Manor (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coffee Shops, F/F, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, No Lesbians Die, Roommates, everyone is just happy yearning chilling and alive, goes without saying but this is much lighter than the source material, humor over angst because we deserve it, i am cramming all the tropes in here y'all better get ready</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:01:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>39,708</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27927892</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoeyclarke/pseuds/zoeyclarke</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jamie wants to be pissed at her, as she should be. The sweet irony of someone who is terrible with coffee actually being hired at a coffee place isn’t lost on her. But there’s two problems: 1) Dani came to work today wearing a cropped black tee, meaning there is the smallest sliver of skin that shows between her shirt and waistband each time she leans over the counter, and 2) Jamie is really fucking gay.</p><p>(In which Dani is the new girl at a small coffee shop in London and Jamie is the shift lead who takes no shit.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dani Clayton/Jamie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>152</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>418</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. summer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this damn thing has been plaguing me for a week now and i'm so excited to finally share it! i'm sure there are plenty of damie coffee shop and modern au fics out there already (i wish i had the time to read each and every one of them), and i know i'm a little late to the party, but i hope y'all enjoy this anyway.</p><p>needless to say, i have fallen hard for these two, and i appreciate the love i received on my previous fic about them. this story will take some dedication obviously, and i'm hoping to update on a semi-frequent basis... whatever that means...</p><p>i apologize ahead of time for the possibly excessive swearing. and please know all of dani's impressions of london are directly based off of mine from my trip in january pre-covid-shitstorm, which means yes i am projecting. so i'll cut my rambling and just say thank you so much for clicking on this, and i would love to hear your thoughts! much love to you all and see you at the next chapter :)</p><p>title is taken from "crystal eyes" by soccer mommy (god this thing went through so many title changes yikes)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fuck.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani swipes loose strands of hair out of her face and mashes the cigarette butt into the side of the building. It was still half-lit, so a brief, burning bite singes her fingertips before shifting into tingly numbness. Oh, great. Day one, and she has already managed to cripple one hand. How is she supposed to prepare a latte or slice a bagel or do whatever the hell else with only one hand?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is only an hour into her shift, and already Dani’s hopes for liking this job have crumbled like the remains of her smoldering cigarette, ashes blown away by a breeze of a reality check.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Through the propped open metal door to her left, Cafe Viola lies in wait, ready to enclose her back inside the hustle and bustle that descends upon most coffee shops in big cities early on a Saturday afternoon. And really, there’s nothing particularly wrong with the place. Dani has nothing against the owner or the customers or her coworkers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If New Girl doesn’t wrap up her panic attack in the next thirty seconds, I’ll go </span>
  <em>
    <span>completely</span>
  </em>
  <span> mad!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay, Dani has nothing against </span>
  <em>
    <span>most </span>
  </em>
  <span>of her coworkers. She winces at the venom of the words, which are shouted at a volume that is clearly intended to be a spear that pierces her through the crack in the door. She leans against the building, rough brick scraping her bare arm, and risks a glance inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the sliver of space, she can see the owner of the angry voice furiously scrubbing at a muffin pan. Another one of the shift leads— Rebecca, if memory serves— joins her at the sink and sighs. “I say this with love, Jamie, but I think you’re already past that point.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, then. Doesn’t mean I can’t still be pissed. We’re already short one person as it is, and with a line going out the damn door, it’s better to have someone clueless on the floor than no one at all.” Jamie drops the pan onto the drying rack with a deafening clatter, then takes one of the blenders Rebecca brought and plunges it into the soapy water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Rebecca says. Despite her coworker’s volcano-about-to-abrupt mannerisms and the chaos up front, she is the picture of serenity. She gives Jamie’s shoulder a light squeeze, and Dani hopes against hope that maybe some of Rebecca’s patience will transfer to Jamie that way. “I’ll go get her, okay? I can keep an eye on her. Don’t worry about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie just grunts in response. Dani only has a second to move away from the door before it swings open and Rebecca emerges. Something unreadable shows on her face, then she audibly sniffs. “So you smoke, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani shrinks, prepared to be reprimanded. She can’t fathom how she used to face screaming second-graders without batting an eyelash, and now she can barely respond to a casual question from someone her own age. Maybe it was the six months of loneliness in a foreign city with no promising job prospects that grated away at her self esteem. (She wants to think it’s just bad luck. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>needs </span>
  </em>
  <span>to think it’s just bad luck.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rebecca tilts her head, and it occurs to Dani that she still has not offered anything resembling an answer or excuse. She opens her mouth, then closes it, then, “Um...” She gives a quick, barely discernible nod. “Yeah, it... calms the nerves.” Hopefully whatever shape her mouth is forming looks like a smile. “First day jitters, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To her surprise, Rebecca’s curious look morphs into a faint grin. “I’ll have to bum a smoke off you sometime, then. My boyfriend never shares his cigs with me.” With a friendly wink, she jerks her head inside. “C’mon, you better get back in there, or else Jamie will lose her head.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani grimaces apologetically. “Yeah, I kind of heard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s not that bad, I promise. Just gets a little heated under stress.” Rebecca leans closer and lowers her voice to a whisper. “If you ask me, I think she puts too much pressure on herself. She’s good friends with Hannah and Owen, and when they’re not around she tries to carry every responsibility on her shoulders, but it doesn’t have to be like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani nods, furrowing her brow in interest. She never imagined she would be getting an inside scoop on the scary shift lead in the second hour of her first shift, but she also can’t say she </span>
  <em>
    <span>isn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> curious to understand what makes Jamie... </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jamie. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Because maybe then it will be easier to avoid her. “And Hannah is...?”</span>
</p><p><span>“Oh, right, Owen did your interview.” Rebecca chuckles. “You’ll get to love him, anyway, he’s the manager who comes around every now and then to bake a million different things in one day. And Hannah...</span> <span>she’s the owner of this place. She’s pretty nice, too, a little distant at first but once you make her a good tea she’ll adore you forever.”</span></p><p>
  <span>Again Dani nods attentively, absorbing this information as if she isn’t planning to quit at the end of this shift. She follows Rebecca inside, fixing the loosened knot in her apron strings as they go back through the kitchen and into the swarm of activity out front. Despite the way everything has happened so far today, Dani still has to appreciate the ambiance of the place. Cafe Viola has a particular kind of </span>
  <em>
    <span>mood </span>
  </em>
  <span>to it, like it has its own brand of air that hits Dani’s lungs differently when she breathes it in. Even with the constantly repopulating crowd of thirsty and hangry Londoners on the other side of the counter, a fog of inexplicable calm lurks beneath the clamor of chatty customers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rebecca positions Dani at the cash register, where she stays camped out for the next few hours. It’s easy enough to stand there, punch in orders, recite prices and exchange money or debit cards. She had a job similar to this back in high school, after all, and the old instincts learned from that ice cream shop she worked at with Eddie are flooding back now. Of course, some things are different, and Dani is still getting used to the twenty different shapes and sizes of British coins, but whenever she feels the panic creeping in like a monster begging for a puff of nicotine, she stares straight ahead at one of the paintings on the far wall. She decides her favorite, after a few hours of studying them from afar and over various customers’ shoulders, is one of a lake. When she squints, she can make out the figure of a woman standing facing the lake, nothing more than a smudge of ivory paint from where Dani is, seemingly miles away. The painting is only ever truly obscured when someone taller happens to sit at the table underneath it. Otherwise, it’s there for her to admire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The lake one is your favorite, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani startles a little at the question, nearly losing her grip on the handful of change she’s dropping into the till. She watches the door shut behind the final customer of the night, the bell attached to it giving a tired jingle of farewell. Then she shuts the register drawer and turns her attention to another coworker, Flora, who is standing beside her. From what Dani has gathered, Flora is still quite young, probably no older than sixteen, but she has been working here for a few months and is clearly confident enough to yell orders at Dani in a tone not all that different from Jamie’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Dani doesn’t immediately respond, Flora appears unfazed and adds, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“My</span>
  </em>
  <span> favorite is the house.” She lifts a gentle finger to indicate the painting framed directly next to the lake one. “Dark and brooding, definitely mysterious, but still inviting all the same, don’t you think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah.” Dani is more than a little taken aback to see this very chilled-out version of Flora. In the stagnant quiet of Cafe Viola just after close, Flora speaks with a voice that could be lost in the squeal of a tea kettle. Her face is solemn, posture stiff, but Dani detects some underlying friendliness. It offers her a shimmer of hope which clings to her even as Flora turns away to wipe the counter. Maybe if Rebecca is friendly— Rebecca, who, to Jamie’s dismay, was swept out the door not ten minutes before close by a brash hunk Dani assumed was her boyfriend— and Flora is too, then there is a speck of a chance Dani could uncover everyone’s better side here. She lets her eyes drift to the back room, where Jamie is washing dishes and blasting a playlist that shifts from Mitski’s “Cop Car” to an old Garbage song. Maybe Dani can even find </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> girl’s better half— better half meaning, of course, her nicer side, not a significant other or anything. Yeah, maybe—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chin up, Jessica Day. She’s only super mean for the first week or so. Then she’ll like you,” Flora’s voice cuts neatly into Dani’s thoughts. It makes her think of a plastic knife making smooth slices out of a crumbly pastry, the hurried, so-called dinner she’d witnessed Jamie wolf down in the middle of the late afternoon rush.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who?” Dani asks absently, tearing her eyes away from the grumpy dishwasher closed away in a cage of 90s rock. Better for her to stare at literally anything else: the floor tiles in dire need of a good sweep, her old scuffed-up Vans, Flora’s crusty apron. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flora giggles. Whether it’s aimed at Dani’s relentless distraction or not, Dani couldn’t be sure. “Jamie, obviously. I promise she gets better. You know, I saw her apartment once. It was filled with all these plants. She had more plants than books and photos on the walls, and all these flowers spilling out of every window— a perfectly splendid sight in gray old London. And I thought, if she can be nice to plants, she can be nice to people... probably.” A hint of a smirk plays at the corners of her thin lips. “Anyway, she’ll like you. I can tell.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Dani barks out a dry laugh. “Well, I don’t think it’ll matter much whether she likes me or not, because I doubt I’ll be sticking around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flora’s amusement slips into a frown. “You’re quitting? That’s an awful shame.” She pauses. “Well, if it means anything, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>like you already.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.” Dani unties her apron and hangs it on one of the hooks in the back where her keys are. “So, uh, what should I do for cleaning?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flora is apparently one step ahead of her, as she already has the mop in her hand. She holds it out to Dani and nods at the nearby bucket. “Get started mopping the lobby and wiping down the tables. Go ahead and lock the door, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani starts to do as she’s told, trying to suppress the undeniable humiliation that comes with taking orders from someone ten years her junior who’s likely still in high school. All those years working as a teacher in Iowa, only to come back to where she began in the workforce. Did she seriously think she could up and move across the ocean, pop her information into a few nanny search websites like they’re dating apps (and even get desperate enough to put an ad in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>newspaper, </span>
  </em>
  <span>of all things, for a week straight), and magically land a job working as an au pair or something for an affluent family? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Rich, Danielle, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she hears her mother mocking her as if she’s still just in the other room, sitting in front of the TV nursing a Coke bottle filled with vodka at three in the afternoon. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s real rich, even for you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Dani slips through the gap in the counter that goes to the lobby, she stops, however, and turns around. “By the way, what was the Jessica Day name about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flora doesn’t stop working as she replies, “Well, Jamie loves her nicknames, as you’ll find out if you don’t quit, and if you didn’t realize it, she’s been calling you New Girl because you’re the new girl here, and annoying and American just like that show— her words, not mine. So I thought I’d be a little more on-the-nose and call you Jessica Day instead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Dani snorts, unable to conceal her amusement. “Gotcha.” With that, she starts to work in the lobby, flicking off the open sign and gazing out into the night beyond the glass doors and windows. Cafe Viola is situated on a corner, and the intersection between the busier main street and the quiet side alley looks like an abyss in the dark of night. Dani stands there a moment, the mop dripping in her hands, and watches the traffic light change for zero cars. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then she moves over the floor in an awkward slow dance with the mop, slapping it down and rubbing her foot over the sticky spots. Eventually she passes the paintings of the lake and the house, and she pauses to finally get a better look at them. They’re for sale, apparently, pieces done by local artists. Dani leans down to peer at the label for her favorite: </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Lady of the Lake. Oil on canvas. £45. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Then she continues her mopping, letting her ears reach out to the loud music beckoning from the back room, and thinks that maybe she’ll stay another day.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Dani’s crappy flat consists of 450 square feet of crusty carpet and peeling wallpaper situated between rowdy neighbors: abusive on the left, promiscuous on the right. Still, it’s the best she can afford with her dwindling savings, and so it’s where she has lived for all six months since arriving in London, watching people move in and out to better places while she stays and stays and stays.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she opens her front door and steps inside, it’s like walking into a wall of stifling June heat. With a grumbled curse, she tosses her dirty apron and keys aside, then peels off her jeans and leaves them on the floor. She eats a couple bites of cold leftovers, washes her face, brushes her teeth, and settles into bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Really, she can’t help the fact that she ends up scrolling through Eddie’s Facebook again. It’s not her fault. Her fingers have a mind of their own, traversing her phone like they have every right to snoop. It doesn’t make any sense— she let him go, after all. It was her who dumped him in the middle of a really nice, super fancy dinner. A really nice, super fancy dinner that just so happened to take place two nights after their </span>
  <em>
    <span>engagement </span>
  </em>
  <span>party... oh, god. She is a terrible person.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are a </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrible</span>
  </em>
  <span> person,” she tells herself. The hot, still air offers nothing in response. Her thumb flies over the screen, scrolling past events he recently attended and nerdy memes he shared. If she scrolls far enough, Dani already knows what she will see: her own comments on his posts, changes in relationship status over the years, endless snapshots of the two of them (a blurry photo from the day he got his glasses, taken by his mother’s excited hands on an early 2000s flip phone; a selfie from the day they graduated high school, taken on his ancient iPhone 4 with the cracked screen; a six-second clip captured inside his equally ancient Volvo, the camera swiveling from Dani curled in the backseat, tears streaked at the corners of her eyes as she snorts out a fresh batch of giggles, over to Eddie, who is wearing one of her scrunchies stretched around his forehead).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hasn’t deleted any of it. Dani couldn’t say </span>
  <em>
    <span>why </span>
  </em>
  <span>he hasn’t. Instead, he’s just letting it get buried further and further, allowing the months since their breakup to slip by and consume years’ worth of memories. They were happy, Dani thinks, and they were happy for a long time. In hindsight, the length of time they were together doesn’t matter all that much— it’s just that they were </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and for however long it was that they were happy, it was no one’s business but their own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something shifted when he became her fiance, though, more than it shifted when he went from childhood best friend to boyfriend. Suddenly, Dani was going to </span>
  <em>
    <span>marry </span>
  </em>
  <span>him, become absorbed into the O’Mara family’s overwhelming affection, have kids and grandkids with him, live with only him and breathe with only him for the rest of her life. It shouldn’t have felt suffocating, but it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dani did love him. But the problem was just that— he was a man. Dani kept having dreams that weren’t about him, and it got to the point where she never even daydreamed about him, either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t look him in the eye when she told him, and that was an issue, too, she thinks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I thought I was just being selfish. I thought eventually I would feel the way I was supposed to.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She had known him for nearly all of her life. Just the day before, she went with his mother to get fitted into her old wedding gown. And Dani could only stare at the candle flame between them on the table when she told him, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Eddie, I think I’m gay.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He was never outright angry with her, but she could tell the revelation gouged him deeply. He stood up, dropped his napkin on his half-finished plate, left her his car keys, and called himself an Uber home. He never blocked her on anything, but she didn’t reach out, anyway. Distance was better. She didn’t tell him she was moving to a new country, nor did she tell his mother when she hugged her an hour before she was due at the airport. Dani gave her back the ring, said </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m sorry,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>and his mom said she had nothing to be sorry for. Dani never knew if Eddie told her exactly why they broke off the engagement. But still, she hugged her, both of them saying two different types of goodbyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani scrolls back to the top of his Facebook page, blinks idly at the familiar names, dates, and places listed under his stoic profile photo. He seems happy now. She hopes he is. Dani plugs in her phone and falls asleep with the lamp on.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>She ends up staying at Cafe Viola another day. Then the day after that. And the day after that. Nearly her entire first week is spent parked in front of the register, then every night after close she does her usual dance with the mop while daydream-hopping from one painting to the next. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once a few weeks have elapsed in that draining rush that comes with most new jobs, Dani finally finds herself facing the dreaded industrial espresso machine. Honestly, it makes no difference whether the appliance is an intimidating stainless steel torture device or a friendly, shiny red Keurig; neither will make any more sense to Dani than the other. She just can’t master coffee. Most mornings since moving here, she’s ducked into the Pret a Manger down the block from her building. Pret fills the hole left behind by Dunkin’ back in the States, and it also explains the gap on her one tile of counter space where most people would have a coffee maker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure hope you’re a quick learner, because I don’t have the time to babysit you using this thing all day,” Jamie says, popping a sliced bagel in the toaster. It’s about ten minutes before open on a Monday morning, and Dani already has a decent idea of the crowd they’ll be facing: grumpy businesspeople marching through the streets and choosing the first coffee place that distracts them from their phones long enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani glances back at the espresso machine, frowning into the reflective surface. Her own distorted image winces back at her, mirroring her fear perfectly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m definitely going to mess this up. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m sure I’ll get it,” she says. “I mean, it’s coffee. How hard can it be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She peers at Jamie out of the corner of her eye, and is almost positive she caught the tail-end of a smirk. But it passes over her coworker’s face so quickly, there’s no telling if Dani imagined it or not. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>After nine minutes of struggle, any patience Jamie started the day with has since been ground into oblivion with the espresso beans. “You’ve </span>
  <em>
    <span>got </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be kidding me,” she mutters under her breath, watching as American Girl Doll tries and fails yet again to get the machine to cooperate with her. Dani appears somewhat frustrated, but relatively unfazed; only her pinched brow and twisted mouth give any indication of annoyance. Strange— maybe she really does save those panic attacks for when she’s sharing company with the alley behind the cafe and a cigarette. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be pissed at her, as she should be. The sweet irony of someone who is terrible with coffee actually being hired at a coffee place isn’t lost on her. But there’s two problems: 1) Dani came to work today wearing a cropped black tee, the hemline of which barely reaches where the sloppy bow of apron strings droops at the small of her back, meaning there is the smallest sliver of skin that shows between her shirt and waistband each time she leans over the counter; and 2) Jamie is really fucking gay. Like, dangerously gay. Like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>why are you having these thoughts about someone you barely know, Jesus Christ, that </span>
  </em>
  <span>kind of gay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She ends up channeling her own frustration into some kind of weird gaiety (get it?), and she barely slaps a filter over her mouth in time before the guffaw comes tumbling out. “It’s just— how? How are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>bad? Nobody is </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>bad at it.” Dani’s eyes land on her like hot coals, and Jamie turns back to her bagel. Stuffing her face is preferable to making eye contact right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie barely notices Rebecca has breezed past them until she already has, tossing a lame defense over her shoulder: “Come on, Jamie, don’t be mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not being mean!” Jamie protests. “Just being honest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rebecca flicks on the open sign and comes back behind the counter. She seizes Jamie’s arm and drags her to the back, leaving a helpless Dani to fiddle with the machine some more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Becca fixes her with a stern look, but before she can get a word out Jamie whispers, “I mean, really. The girl can’t even make a coffee. Remind me why Hannah hired her?”</span>
</p><p><span>Jamie’s friend sighs and crosses her arms. “She didn’t. Owen did the interview, remember? You know how Hannah hates doing them, anyway. I guess Dani just... switched on the American charm for him, I don’t know.” Jamie opens her mouth again, but Rebecca lifts a silencing finger. “But what we </span><em><span>do </span></em><span>know</span> <span>is Owen doesn’t just hire any random person off the street. He picked her for a reason. And we’re understaffed as it is. Just deal with her, okay? I can keep her under my wing when I’m around—”</span></p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, when you’re around for only an hour before Prince Pete snaps you up—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“— don’t,” Rebecca warns. “Like I said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll </span>
  </em>
  <span>watch her and I’ll get her to learn. I don’t mind because if you bothered to notice, she’s a sweetheart. So you do your thing and I’ll keep her making basic drinks today, alright?”</span>
</p><p><span>Jamie rolls her eyes. “Fine.</span> <span>And by the way, I </span><em><span>did </span></em><span>notice she’s a ‘sweetheart,’ but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”</span></p><p>
  <span>“Whatever.” Becca shakes her head dismissively and heads back up front.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie hangs back a moment, watching as her friend gently redirects Dani to the regular coffee carafe. She pretends to wash some nonexistent dishes while actually watching Dani pour out some plain black coffees for the first couple customers of the day. And if Jamie’s eyes snag on the stray hairs fraying from Dani’s ponytail and clinging to her shoulder as she stretches over the counter to hand a drink to someone, it’s nobody’s business but her own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With her body one step ahead of her brain, Jamie marches back out front. She walks right up to Dani, who is poised to take the next customer’s order, and taps on her shoulder. When she turns to face her, Jamie extends one hand and adjusts Dani’s crooked nametag. She didn’t count on a few blonde wisps being caught in it, however, leaving Jamie no choice but to brush some hair back over Dani’s shoulder. Just as quickly as she touched her, Jamie pulls back her fizzing fingers and ignores Becca’s teasing glance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, make sure your hair’s out of your face, ‘ight?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Dani says. She blinks rapidly and looks down. “Got it... thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Got to look presentable, y’know,” Jamie mumbles, barely meeting Dani’s eyes before she brushes past her. She throws some made-up excuse at Rebecca that they need milk from the walk-in fridge, then makes a beeline for the back again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once she’s actually enclosed herself in her cool, four-degree haven, Jamie happens to notice that they’re actually almost completely out of milk. </span>
  <em>
    <span>God, I hate it here. Owen never does inventory when he’s supposed to.</span>
  </em>
</p><p><span>Then the pressing reminder sinks in that if she’s not back out there in less than thirty seconds, there will be more questions than she has answers for. And Jamie has her own</span> <span>questions to answer first, such as the all-new and compelling </span><em><span>Why the hell did you touch her hair like that? </span></em></p><p>
  <span>On second thought, maybe she could just die in here, and that would be perfectly fine. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck. </span>
  </em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Several hours later, after a day spent juggling orders and trying not to dwell on the events of that morning, the bell above the door jingles and gives way to a roar from an unwanted guest. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Hellooo, </span>
  </em>
  <span>ladies!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the edge of her vision, Dani notices Jamie stiffen. In the past few weeks, she has gotten pretty used to that voice, and Jamie wasn’t wrong when she said once that hearing Rebecca’s boyfriend speak is synonymous with having two butcher knives plunged into each ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, joy. The king of obnoxious has arrived,” Jamie says too quietly for anyone but Dani to hear. She merely tosses a sneer over her shoulder at him, while Dani forces a half-smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, no warm greetings for me? Shoddy customer service at this place,” Peter complains. His voice somehow rises even more in volume as he saunters up to the counter. It’s close to five o’clock, so luckily the shop is pretty empty, but one customer Dani is ringing out still has the misfortune of receiving a friendly elbow in the ribs and a “Sup, mate?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie only bites her tongue for a moment longer before snapping, “Oh, St. Peter, would it kill you to put out that stupid cigarette?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course not, of course not,” Peter says. “Now where should I do it? Here, perhaps?” He holds the cig threateningly over the glass case of pastries, flicking ash onto the counter. Dani can’t help the way her mouth waters slightly; it’s been all day since she had a smoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How about on the sleeve of that coat you stole?” Jamie growls before disappearing into the back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Always lovely talking to you!” Peter calls after her. “Bring Becs back with ya, and don’t keep me waiting.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Left alone in the deserted cafe with him, discomfort drips like icy water down Dani’s back. She tries to step away from the register and wipe crumbs off the counter, but of course Peter can’t be quiet for long. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So how’s life for the missing Olsen sister?” Smoke wafts in Dani’s direction, and she turns sharply away from the temptation. Damn, she’s too weak for it, and she’ll never be able to quit as long as this douche keeps coming around. Dani likes Rebecca, but she will never understand what she sees in a man like this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine.” Dani gives a noncommittal shrug. “I mean, I’m in a foreign country and have absolutely no idea what I’m doing. I’m kind of amazed I’ve made it this far, to be honest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter smirks. “Well, better here than bloody Afghanistan or someplace, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m here, I’m here,” Rebecca announces, and thank </span>
  <em>
    <span>god</span>
  </em>
  <span> because Dani has already filled in most of the spaces on her small talk bingo card with this guy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s here, and then she’s gone,” Jamie remarks, watching with disdain as Rebecca clocks out on the register.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About time!” Peter’s smile looks the way Dani imagines a personified snake’s would. “Let’s go, Becs. You know what’s on the menu for tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No sooner has Rebecca untied her apron than Peter has thrown his arm over her shoulders and started pulling her to the door. “You two will be fine!” Rebecca calls, unprompted but apparently reading the mind of the seething Jamie. “It’s always dead after five on a Monday. Cheers!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bye, beautiful!” Peter adds, and Dani isn’t even sure which one of them he’s addressing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re an arsehole, Quint!” Jamie shouts, and with that, they’re gone. Once the door closes, she slumps back against the counter. “Well, that’s just great.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani chews on her lip for a moment, then decides to overstep into teasing territory. “Aw, I promise hanging out with just me isn’t that bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie lifts her head and shoots her a glance. “Isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani scoffs. “Listen, I’m probably being a little too </span>
  <em>
    <span>forward </span>
  </em>
  <span>by saying this, but... isn’t it exhausting to hate me? It’s a lot easier to just </span>
  <em>
    <span>like </span>
  </em>
  <span>people. I know I’m not that interesting, but—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“First off, yes, that’s too forward. And second, I don’t hate you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani purses her lips and presses one hip into the counter, tired ponytail falling past one shoulder. She hopes the stare she sends Jamie comes off at least a little bit challenging. “Then why expend so much energy </span>
  <em>
    <span>acting </span>
  </em>
  <span>like you hate me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something glints deep in Jamie’s eye, but it’s too distant for Dani to translate. “You really want to know why?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Dani leans in a tiny bit closer, neither of them notice (and that’s a lie). “Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m expending energy because it’s my job to expend energy. I have to keep the place running, and you being a slow learner doesn’t keep the place running.” Jamie pushes off the counter and wanders into the back, leaving Dani with her jaw hanging ajar. The air in front of her is still heated from when Jamie was there only a moment ago. She really thought she’d cracked into her shell. She really thought she had her for a moment there. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Damn. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani serves a group of customers that just walked in, and by the time that is over with, Jamie emerges from where she was apparently organizing stock in the walk-in. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe spending some time in the fridge chilled her out?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, uh. How long have you been working here?” Dani asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie shrugs. “Couple years. Dunno.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani grabs a rag and wipes up a small puddle of spilled frappuccino on the counter. “So what did you do before coming here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s so fixated on scrubbing away the mess, she doesn’t realize how close Jamie has gotten to her until she feels her breath on her neck. Dani jumps and stares as Jamie replaces a stack of freshly-washed blenders. Right, of course. She was only leaning in to replace the blenders. “I was a florist,” Jamie answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Being in such close proximity to her has caused Dani’s throat to shrivel. She clears her throat and tries not to think about why that is. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Because, </span>
  </em>
  <span>her annoying brain reminds her, </span>
  <em>
    <span>when she was this close to you this morning, she brushed your hair over your shoulder and couldn’t even look you in the eye, almost as if she— nope. Nope. Shut that down. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Dani says after an awkward delay. “That’s, um, that’s cool! So what happened—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, listen, Dani California,” Jamie interrupts. “Everyone who works here? They’re here because they failed somehow. That’s the plain truth. You failed somehow, I don’t know how, but I know you did. I failed. Becca failed by staying with a controlling wank who slowly crushed her dreams ‘til they died. Owen failed by never taking that extra step and going to culinary school in Paris. Hannah failed by opening a cafe that isn’t one of the Pret or Starbucks franchises on every street corner, and now she’s stuck with a money pit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sour feeling sinks into Dani’s stomach. Is detailing everyone’s shortcomings the final step of her tutorial? Fine, then. The scowl her face has morphed into feels wrong, but Jamie matches it unflinchingly. “And Flora?” Dani asks, just for the hell of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, she’s just a kid.” At last Jamie’s eyes flit away, giving Dani a moment to breathe. “Doubt she’ll be here much longer, anyway. Her rich uncle will line something up for her like he did for her brother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rope of tension Jamie has stretched between them is abruptly snapped by a jingle from the door. They both peek over the pastry case to see what the customer situation is. “Speak of the devil. Dear god, how many man-children must I face today,” Jamie mumbles, and before Dani can ask what she means, her coworker has stepped up to meet the guy on the opposite side of the counter. He couldn’t be older than twenty, but the sparse coat of facial hair he’s grown indicates a desire to appear more mature.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miles. Been a while. Want the usual?” Jamie asks, already plugging a memorized order into the register.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, is— is Flora not around?” Miles scans around Jamie, and his gaze catches on Dani. “I...” He coughs into his fist, and slaps a five pound note on the counter. “I thought she’d be here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, she had off tonight.” Jamie takes the money and counts out his change. “So you’re telling me you don’t know the whereabouts of your own sister?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughs stiffly. “I’m afraid not. Suppose she’s with her boyfriend or something.” Jamie turns away to prepare his drink, which allows him to fixate on Dani again. She squirms and decides to watch Jamie like a hawk in a feeble attempt to memorize the process for a more complicated drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miles, it’s not polite to stare,” Jamie teases without turning around. Dani suppresses a snort, unsure if Jamie is aware which one of them he is not-so-discreetly ogling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” he grins and shoves his hands into his pockets. “Suppose I’m just curious about the new girl here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not so new anymore, really,” Jamie says, finishing up his drink with a dollop of whipped cream before handing it over. “Guess it’s been a while since you stopped in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miles nods, but Dani is regrettably well-versed in most male mannerisms towards her, and it’s obvious he isn’t paying Jamie much attention. “I’m Miles, if you didn’t catch it. Miles Wingrave,” he says to her, smiling broadly and offering her his hand. Jeez, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wingrave? </span>
  </em>
  <span>The name practically bleeds money.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani takes his hand with a polite nod. “Dani.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice to meet you,” he says, and after an uncomfortable pause, “Right. Well then. Guess I’ll have to come by more often.” He lifts his hands and— oh no, are those </span>
  <em>
    <span>finger guns?— </span>
  </em>
  <span>then departs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani and Jamie stand in the quiet of the store for a second, then burst into laughter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was... well, he was... nice,” Dani tries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Poor bloke tries his best, but he thinks turning eighteen automatically gives him an in with every woman in her twenties,” Jamie explains, rolling her eyes and making her way to the sink. “God forbid he becomes better acquainted with Quint, then we’re all goners.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani follows her, still positively bemused. “So he’s really Flora’s brother?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yup. Sure is. Remarkable how different you can be from someone you love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Dani says. She tilts her head slightly, watching Jamie dunk her hands in the soapy water. The tiniest glimmer of laughter is still on her face, and Dani clings to the sight of it.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>It hadn’t been in Jamie’s plans to hit the pub after work the following Friday but, well, she isn’t much of a planner, anyway. Drinks have a way of multiplying like rabbits once they touch her hands, so by the time she stumbles heavily into her flat past two in the morning, her feet are bricks and her mind is mush.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another week of working with the American Dream Girl really has her spent mind, body, and soul. Jamie shouldn’t like her. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>like her. They could have all the (not-so) accidental hand brushes in the world, and it still won’t ever happen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Too tired to even mumble a curse when she trips over her own shoes, Jamie strips off her work t-shirt (wearing a top with the Cafe Viola name on it is encouraged, but optional) and drops into bed. She has her cheek flat on the pillow when her phone, face down on the nightstand, gives a little chirp.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>daniellec323 has requested to follow you.</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <span>No way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie props herself on one elbow, which aches in protest, and tries to blink some sobriety into her currently awful vision. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No can do, </span>
  </em>
  <span>her body says, but once she pulls the screen closer to her face and squints at it some more, Jamie realizes she definitely read the username right. Sure as shit, there Dani Clayton is, requesting to follow Jamie’s Instagram account that she hasn’t touched in probably a year.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes flick to the top of the screen: </span>
  <em>
    <span>02:34. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Why the hell is Dani still awake right now, too? Jamie can’t answer for herself, but what’s Dani’s excuse? She can’t possibly still be on American time after however many months.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A couple swipes lands Jamie on Dani’s Instagram page. Her account is also (thankfully) private. Jamie isn’t sure what she would do if it wasn’t private. Actually, she doesn’t want to know how long she would spend scrolling. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t be ridiculous, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she scolds herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Since it’s private, all Jamie can glean from the page is her name (duh), and a very brief bio that offers almost nothing. There’s a zodiac symbol emoji, and hell if Jamie knows which one that is, but a quick Google tells her it’s Aries. Next to that is </span>
  <em>
    <span>“dreamer. london.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So someone’s a minimalist, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jamie muses. A few familiar usernames appear under Dani’s bio, showing that they already have several mutual followers: Flora, Rebecca, Cafe Viola’s account that Hannah started three years ago and quickly lost interest in maintaining, and Owen’s account where he posts charming cooking videos that are, unsurprisingly, quite popular. </span>
  <em>
    <span>So she found me from one of them. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie taps over to her messages, and through the broken filter of her muddled mind, she types out a text to Becca:</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>next time you want to randomly hand out my socials please clue me in first. thx.</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Only two minutes later, she receives a reply, which is unusual but not surprising. Probably still up fooling around with toddler-brained Peter Pan.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>I didn’t.</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Hm. Jamie frowns. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Or maybe Dani Clayton did some digging of her own. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Now she has nothing left to do but stare at the follow button. Sober Jamie would find it vaguely tempting, and drunk Jamie is even less opposed to the idea. Dani wasn’t too scared to click it at 2:30 AM. Hell, maybe she’s drunk, too. Still... although Jamie can’t exactly judge her from a private Instagram page, she would like to think Dani is happy. Well, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>seems </span>
  </em>
  <span>happy. It’s what Jamie wants to think. Dani seems happy. And if she is, Jamie doesn’t want to change that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever decision she comes to, she runs out of time to act on it. The extent of her exhaustion finally hits, urging her into the kind of fitful sleep that traps her on the cusp of consciousness.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Owen slides in a pan of muffins and shuts the oven door with a flourish. “Lemon and white chocolate chip muffins, set to debut in thirty minutes!” he announces, beaming at Dani as she rushes back to rinse out a blender at the sink. He points playfully at her with an oven mitt, adding through gritted teeth, “Now let’s hope they don’t turn out pure shite.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you kidding? Your stuff is always amazing,” Dani assures him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, truly, but still— this was a total off-the-book experiment. Can’t help but be nervous.” Owen watches in dismay as Jamie breezes past on her way to the walk-in and swipes at the scraped-out bowl, catching some leftover batter on an index finger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could’ve used more lemon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stares after her with his jaw dropped, then yells as the fridge door closes behind her, “Then you should’ve brought more of your lemons in!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A moment later, Jamie reappears armed with a bottle of almond milk and a fierce eye roll. “Do you know how long it takes for those little buggers to grow in this climate? Not to mention they’re not even in season in July.” She points a critical finger at Owen, causing him to lower his oven mitt puppet in surrender. “You should be grateful I even had any to bring in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You grow lemons?” Dani asks, half turning from the sink in interest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Among other things.” Jamie’s response is clipped, but thaws slightly when she adds, “Not surprising, right, that I grow lemons? Ha, ha.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Owen’s mustache quivers, a signal Dani has learned means he’s hiding laughter. “Now why </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span> would you say that, dear Jamie? You are one of the sweetest, least sourest people I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hilarious, Owen,” Jamie deadpans, as Dani giggles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw, come on! You know the age-old saying: ‘When Jamie Taylor gives you lemons, you—’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“— get back up front as soon as possible, because there’s a line out the damn door,” Jamie interrupts him. She grabs Dani’s arm and nudges her back to the front, leaving Owen to sigh in exasperation behind them. Her fingers are warm on Dani’s bare skin, steady in their grip. It’s only seconds later when Jamie lets her go to twist open the jug of almond milk, but the feeling remains. Dani looks down and rubs at the spot. She almost expects to see burn marks there, perfectly formed in the shape of a fleeting hand, a momentary touch that lasts forever. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Forever? No, wait, what? What are you thinking?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>In between helping customers, Dani tries to string together a conversation. “So. Lemons, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie’s face is closed to her as she presses buttons on the register’s screen. “Among other things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well... plants, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani studies her, conflicted by the simultaneous glare and smile she feels on her own face. “Alright, fine. Don’t tell me about your, um, bootleg plant operation or whatever.” She glances over at Rebecca for help. “Is weed legal here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rebecca laughs. “Don’t bother, she’s grumpy today for some reason.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Isn’t she always?, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dani wants to ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which is a good thing, because that’s all the more we’ll have to drink tonight to cheer you up,” Rebecca adds, reaching over to lightly punch Jamie’s shoulder. “You should invite Dani along.” She catches Jamie’s eye, nods in Dani’s direction, and— is that a </span>
  <em>
    <span>wink? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why should I? It’s your thing you planned,” Jamie retorts before turning her attention to a customer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rebecca sighs and glances at Dani. “Okay, well, you’re invited to come bar-hopping with us tonight after work. But just so you know, with us it usually ends up being only one or two places.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” Dani says, hardly able to believe what she’s hearing. It’s been a while since she had friends. Is friends too strong a word? Maybe it always has been for her. (As it turned out, all of her friends back in the States were more Eddie’s than hers.) Before the hesitation can get too awkward, she goes on in a rush, “Um, yeah, that sounds fun. Are you sure I’m not, like, barging in or anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rebecca scrunches up her face as if that’s the most absurd concept she’s ever heard of. “Of course not. The more, the merrier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool! It’s a date.” Dani’s grin falters when Jamie brushes past her to get to the espresso machine. She’s still a closed book, but Dani manages to hold eye contact for half a second.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Jamie says slowly. “It’s a date.” There might be a sprinkle of amusement in there. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe. </span>
  </em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>At Owen’s insistence, they leave a little early, because he plans to stay late and bake through most of the night, and he promises to give Flora a lift home since </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Miles is who knows where tonight.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The trio emerge into the summer night a little after nine o’clock. “So, is Cheatin’ Pete not coming along this time?” The bitterness woven into Jamie’s tone is outmatched by Rebecca’s icy scowl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jamie, come on. The only thing Peter cheats at is </span>
  <em>
    <span>Uno.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“But </span>
  <em>
    <span>Uno </span>
  </em>
  <span>is not the only game he plays.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Agree to disagree, alright? I’m not getting into this now.” Luckily, Jamie drops it. She and Rebecca immediately turn left and, since they clearly have a destination in mind, Dani is fine to follow, taking up the rear as they traverse the crowded sidewalk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wishes she had a more flattering outfit on, but that’s a little out of the question now. The one thing within her control is her hair, so Dani works at unraveling her French braid while they walk. After a minute, it tumbles to her shoulders smelling of coffee. Oh well, that’ll have to be her perfume for tonight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As always, London is gorgeous and alive all around them, the looming nightfall coaxing out neon lights and clusters of partygoers roaming the streets. It’s a far cry from Dani’s small hometown, and that means it is exactly what she needs. These days, Dani thinks she’s more sure of what she needs rather than what she wants.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ahead of her, Rebecca and Jamie keep up their pace and exchange some conversation that Dani only catches bits of. She would try to include herself, but it’s kind of hard to concentrate when Jamie is pulling her curls free from a hair tie and fluffing them out to mingle with the pre-August, sun-stained dusk. It’s kind of hell, actually, because Dani can’t understand why </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>makes her feel like, well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>that. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani has never been much of a partier, and she quickly gets the sense that Jamie isn’t really one either. But by the time they hit the second spot— where they do, indeed, stay the rest of the night— Dani is a few drinks past forgetting she isn’t much of a partier. And all night, she has caught Jamie staring at her again and again: across the table, over Rebecca’s shoulder, in every shadow between street lights. She must be </span>
  <em>
    <span>trying </span>
  </em>
  <span>to antagonize her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They settle around a tall table in the corner, standing and occasionally swaying when a good song comes on. Over a thumping remix of a Dua Lipa song, Jamie leans over her drink and asks, “So, Ms. Clayton, what’s your story?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani wants to hide her face in her glass, but she puts it down instead. “My story?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Jamie says, pulling away when Rebecca returns with their shots. “Why are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>here, making cappuccinos and mingling with Europeans? It’s a dangerous feat to take on, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani tosses the shot back. With tequila sizzling at the base of her throat, she says, “I’m here because... I don’t know why. I wanted to teach somewhere far away, I guess. Teach or nanny.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nanny?” Jamie chuckles. “Our very own Mary Poppins.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I think I could make a damn good Mary Poppins,” Dani declares, and Rebecca laughs. “Or, I thought I did. So I dumped my perfect, loving fiance because he was a man, broke the hearts of </span>
  <em>
    <span>everyone </span>
  </em>
  <span>I loved, and came here.” She clinks her glass with the others’, then downs the rest of her drink. “Let’s dance,” she suggests, circling around the table and starting to enter the fray on the dancefloor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She almost misses the long, stunned look Rebecca gives Jamie, and there’s certainly a chance Dani will forget that by the morning. But what she won’t forget is the expression on Jamie’s face when Dani takes her hand and pulls her away from the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They dance through the end of the Dua Lipa song— or rather, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dani</span>
  </em>
  <span> dances, but she can’t lure out much more than an energetic but boring sway from her dance partner. Dani vaguely wonders if her drunk oversharing has effectively scared Jamie off. Or maybe she didn’t hear her at all. Dani can almost read behind her eyes, but not quite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time three different guys have approached and been turned down by Dani, Jamie finally finds her rhythm. “So you </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> dance, after all?” she teases.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When I want to, yeah,” Jamie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What made you change your mind?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No reason.” Jamie spares her a momentary glance, but looks unbothered. “I just want to now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani stares at her. “... right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the second time tonight, Jamie leans in close, and Dani’s heart stumbles over its next beat. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why is that happening? That shouldn’t be happening. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“So you don’t believe me?” Jamie asks, and suddenly Dani can’t hear anything but her, not the music nor the voices around them. Only her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani opens her mouth to reply— there’s a roughly fifty percent chance it would be something semi-coherent— when the DJ cuts into her thoughts, replacing whatever generic dance beat had just been on a moment ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Here’s a quick slow one, for all you yearners out there.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani recognizes the song immediately. “Two Ghosts” by Harry Styles. Well fuck, the potential for her to make this awkward is off the charts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But to her surprise, Jamie snorts out laughter. “Never imagined I’d be transported back to a secondary school formal with Mary Poppins. What are the odds?” Then the freight train turns back around and hits Dani a second time, because now Jamie is holding out her hand. At Dani’s hesitation, she pouts her lower lip. “Please don’t turn me down, m’lady.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, can’t resist that,” Dani laughs. Right away upon taking Jamie’s hand, that same fire crawls up her arm, culminating into fireworks in her chest when Jamie twirls her around. She nearly loses her balance, and Jamie catches her, but then Dani turns her head and Jamie’s lips are </span>
  <em>
    <span>right fucking there </span>
  </em>
  <span>and then her feet forget how to be feet again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Blimey, who knew Poppins had two left feet,” Jamie remarks. The fire has spread to Dani’s face, but she doesn’t want to leave whatever this is she’s entangled herself in, and so they continue spinning and stumbling. At one point, Dani catches sight of Rebecca hanging back at their table, sipping her drink. She sends them a wave, and the glint in her eye makes the heat travel down Dani’s neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel bad, does— does she not wanna join us?” Dani asks as Jamie twists her into the final chorus. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, she won’t. I think Petey Pirate has a tracking device attached to her somewhere that warns him whenever she’s having too much fun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani peers up at her— it’s only Jamie’s thick-soled Vans that are giving her any kind of height advantage— and decides to pose a challenge. “Okay, I get it, her boyfriend is the worst—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“— that’s right.”</span>
</p><p><span>“— but there’s one thing I don’t get. Everyone keeps saying you’re</span> <span>not so bad, and I’m not sure if I see it,” Dani says.</span></p><p>
  <span>Jamie doesn’t say anything for a moment. The song ends, and Dani’s tequila-soaked brain quickly loses pace with the loud, electronic tune that fades in next.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...” Jamie trails off, clicks her tongue. “I just don’t let myself get attached to people. Or rather, I don’t want them to get attached to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani refuses to look away from her, even when Jamie’s eyes are darting to and fro. “So is that why you didn’t accept my follow request?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie rolls her eyes. “Instagram is dumb, I barely go on it anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh-huh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And it’s not like I </span>
  <em>
    <span>rejected </span>
  </em>
  <span>you, I just... didn’t answer it yet. Which reminds me—” Jamie takes her phone out of her pocket and turns the screen to Dani as she makes a show of accepting her follow request and then right away hitting the follow back button. “There. Happy?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani’s heart blooms. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Finally. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Yeah. Thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s a start,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she thinks. And right now, anything beyond a simple beginning terrifies her. So when Jamie lets the staring contest between them endure, Dani cuts it off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s, um, let’s get back to Rebecca,” she suggests, keeping her voice light. Jamie agrees wordlessly. Neither of them have to look down in order to join their hands, and by the time they get back to the table, Dani is consumed by flames.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. autumn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“And all she listens to is Lorde, Hayley Kiyoko, girl in red...” Flora continues, counting off artists on her fingers. “Pretty obvious, if you ask me.” Dani gives her a blank look, so Flora clarifies with an exasperated eye roll, “Two words: gay yearning.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>remember what i said about cramming alllll the best tropes in this thing? (if you don't it's literally in the tags lol) so um. yeah. that's still happening.</p><p>you guys... the feedback i got on the first chapter truly meant the world to me. you're all wonderful and awesome, and i read over each of your comments a million times. thank god for fandom, i'm not sure what any of us would do if we had to suffer through that awful ending alone. thank you, thank you, thank you!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jamie’s mornings are always early, and they always consist of three main components: waking at five, checking on the plants, and showering. (The plants are such a top priority, watering and pruning them would come before waking up, if it was possible). Sometimes Jamie eats breakfast, sometimes not. (Usually not.) And sometimes there’s a special fourth task, which is purposely knocking over the stack of dirty dishes left in the sink by her inconsiderate flatmate so that they’re woken up by the crash of their own mess becoming a bigger mess. (It’s quite satisfying.) </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This particular morning in early September, however, includes the fun addition of finding an eviction notice slid under the front door. Jamie’s heart is at the base of her throat for only a moment until she reads who it’s addressed to: the previously mentioned oh-so-lovely flatmate of hers. This isn’t exactly a surprise, but the news isn’t all that welcome either. Jamie can probably last two months maximum taking on the entire burden of rent by herself before she, too, would have to forcibly relocate. She can only spend so long scraping out the corners of her wallet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie runs into her landlord on her way out of the building. “So another one bites the dust,” she jokes flatly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you know someone who isn’t an absolute shithead and needs a room,” her landlord says, “please send them my way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll keep an eye out. Next time it better be someone who doesn’t butcher my roses for their Tinder date.” Jamie nods a goodbye then sets off to work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She usually has a solid idea of what to expect when she unlocks the back door of Cafe Viola at 6 AM: sweet, sweet silence and solitude. But this morning hasn’t finished throwing its curveballs, apparently, because when she cuts through a side street to access the back door, she spots not only Hannah but Poppins as well through the windows. They are sitting at a table together, engaged in what appears to be relaxed conversation. For the second time today, Jamie’s heart sits at the bottom of her throat, but this time it’s for a very different reason.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course the back door is already unlocked, and though Jamie tries to walk in on cloud-soled shoes, she can’t prevent the whine emitted by the door’s hinges. She’s heard before she is seen, but Hannah knows exactly who it is; Jamie is the only shift lead who possesses the ability to wake up before seven and the willingness to come in a good hour before they open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jamie, dear! It’s been a minute,” Hannah’s voice greets her. Jamie takes a deep breath, drops her shoulders, and relaxes her posture as she makes her way to the front. In the empty lobby, she finds the same scene she’d observed through the window. Dani and Hannah are sitting at the table under the lake painting (Jamie isn’t the biggest fan of it— since it looks so realistic, she struggles to believe it’s only a painting and not an actual haunted photograph). Dani slouches in her chair, a mug of tea cupped in her hands. She looks worn. An obvious lack of sleep has tugged at the skin under her eyes and frizzed the ends of her hair. She’s probably not a morning person, but there is something else buried there in plain sight, something stressed. Despite all of that, she is still irritatingly beautiful, and Jamie’s stubborn heart remains escaped from her chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Hannah, how’ve you been.” Jamie’s tongue freezes for a moment when her eyes land on her boss’s companion. “Dani.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” Dani says quietly, apparently more interested by the plume of steam unfurling from her drink. Better that those expressive eyes avoid Jamie rather than tempt her, but it still bewilders nonetheless. Jamie can’t imagine what else other than exhaustion could be bothering her. Hannah doesn’t like chewing people out, preferring quiet corrections or dismissals to direct scolding. Besides, Dani hasn’t done anything to attract the cafe owner’s displeasure. Jamie stares at the two mugs sitting on the table between them, and an idea occurs to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hard to believe how much of a bite there is in the air already. I could really use something hot.” Jamie grabs a mug and approaches the teapot on the counter. “What kind do we have here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Earl grey,” Hannah answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie half-turns toward them. “So you made it?” she asks, feigning nonchalance. Dani feebly raises one hand and ah, there’s Jamie’s answer. So Poppins was put to the test and she failed. Jamie lightly sets down the empty mug and disappears into the back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannah joins her only a minute later, shrugging on her coat. “I do quite like her,” she tells Jamie while layering a scarf  around her neck. “Her coffee wasn’t as bad, and she expressed genuine interest in Charlotte’s paintings. But who ever knew of such a soft spoken American?” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Soft spoken. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jamie recalls the words coaxed out of Dani by a few tequila shots last month, a tender, soft underbelly briefly flashed between loose wavy hair and strobe lights. Jamie had wanted so badly to know more details, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask. Pushing someone only ever leads closer to the cliff’s edge, after all. Hannah continues, “She just needs a little more security in her place here, I think. She is a teacher, after all. Few people are born to be baristas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, good thing I was, right?” Jamie asks, only half intending it as a joke.</span>
</p><p><span>“You certainly weren’t either, you know that,” Hannah says. “Anyway, that girl has been through plenty, so</span> <span>I don’t think it’s too much to ask for you to cut her some slack, Jamie. Please.”</span></p><p>
  <span>Jamie sighs. “Fine.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m already carrying a torch for her against my will. It’s safe to say I’m cutting her more slack than you’ll ever know.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you. Now, I have to run. Owen should be coming in around three to bake a few things. And he’ll unpack the deliveries, so you don’t have to worry about that.” Jamie nods in understanding, and after a rushed exchange of goodbyes, Hannah is out the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie sighs and opens the walk-in fridge, scanning over the towers of unopened supplies. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Just because I might not be stuck here forever doesn’t mean I’m not still a huge failure. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The reality check arrives right on time. Every morning Jamie is standing somewhere in the cafe when it hits, and she’s not one to break routine, so every morning she tears open the message from her brain and scans over it like it’s one of those paper strips from inside a cracked open fortune cookie. Jamie always thought fortune cookies were dumb, but she listens anyway. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fate knew what it had in store for me, didn’t it? Oh well, just keep marching on, I guess.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She grumbles and breaks open the first box. She doesn’t hear Dani approach over the sound of ripping cardboard and packing tape. A little throat clearing gives her away, though, and Jamie manages to conceal her jump of surprise. Jamie stands, rests her hands on her hips, and turns to face her coworker. “What?” she sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani’s stance is radiating so much anxiety, she may as well be levitating a few centimeters off the floor. Jamie tries not to imagine the adorably frenzied power-walk of hers that Dani must’ve taken just now to get here. She also tries not to think about how close Dani’s face was to hers when they were dancing a month or a lifetime ago. She fails on both fronts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie’s determination not to talk with Poppins about their night out has ultimately backfired on her, because without any kind of release, all these bad thoughts have built up in her head. Jamie wanted to nip this silly thing in the bud, but she should’ve known it was too late and that that would never work. The roots already exist— they’re watered every time Jamie catches a glimpse of Dani’s smile, and they’re fed each time Jamie hears Dani speak her name </span>
  <em>
    <span>(“Jamie,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>hushed and gentle, handled with care on Dani’s tongue like it could fall and shatter).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An apologetic smile flickers on Dani’s lips for a moment, and she clasps both hands together. It’s still at least forty minutes until they open, so her apron is slung over one shoulder, not yet concealing the valley of her chest exposed by a partially unbuttoned blouse. How dare she come here looking like </span>
  <em>
    <span>that, </span>
  </em>
  <span>like... well... </span>
  <em>
    <span>herself? </span>
  </em>
  <span>It’s not fair.</span>
  <em>
    <span> I need a new job.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Jamie, but I was wondering... do you think Hannah likes me? I hadn’t met her before, so I was trying to make a good impression.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does it matter? She’s hardly ever around, so if she hates you, it’ll be easy not to think about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By now Dani is unfazed by Jamie’s on-brand rebuttals, but she still stares at Jamie for a long moment before shaking off the electric blanket of nerves. “Yeah. Right. Okay. I’ll, uh, go get the pastry case ready, I guess.” She hides a yawn behind one hand, then shuffles back to the front. Jamie almost wants to order her to take a quick nap in Hannah’s cramped little office instead, but she stops herself.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Dani isn’t sure where she went wrong. Okay, well, she has a guess that it was somewhere between her third and fourth tequila shots. She should’ve known better— tequila never mixes well with her brain matter. It’s like Mentos in Coke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So she overshared and scared Jamie off with her shitty past. That’s fine. Now every time Dani tries to ask her what it meant when Jamie leaned in and acted like she wanted to kiss her, all Dani gets is a turned shoulder and </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Let’s just talk about work stuff when we’re at work, a’ight?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>At one point her lips were in such close proximity to Dani’s, but now Jamie’s eyes might as well be closed when she looks at her. Good. Great. Awesome. Now Dani spends sleepless nights (which, with her terrible neighbors, are </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>nights) listening to Taylor Swift’s “champagne problems” and “ivy” on repeat, while her mornings are spent wondering </span>
  <em>
    <span>why </span>
  </em>
  <span>she is listening to “champagne problems” and “ivy” on repeat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To top it all off, Dani is approaching one whole year spent on English soil, and she still can’t make a half-decent fucking cup of tea. Hannah was wonderful and kind, though, telling her all about a woman named Charlotte who painted </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Lady of the Lake. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She spoke as if Charlotte was no longer living, but Dani never wants to assume the use of past tense means what she thinks it means. After all, she thinks in past tense about her and Eddie, but neither of them are dead. Only everything they ever shared together is dead, that’s all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>mean</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’m a ninny? I broke my arm once, remember? And it barely even hurt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Ninny’ actually means </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It doesn’t mean you’re not tough, you ninny.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani presses two fingers into her throbbing temple and tries to tune out Miles and Flora’s bickering. Now that she has seen them together a few times, it is easy to notice their resemblance. The most prominent similarity they share is their desire to pick silly little fights that can only be fully dispelled by their Uncle Henry. This particular battle is over a single word, apparently. Because of course it is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, guys?” Dani says, her voice barely overpowering their overlapping insults. “I’m sorry, just... do you mind toning it down a bit?” She feels compelled to add </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve had a combined two hours of sleep this week and a headache that I refuse to believe isn’t because of Jamie, so please, for the love of lesbian Aubrey Plaza, stop talking— </span>
  </em>
  <span>but she resists.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, Flora, why are you stirring up such a fuss? I’m sorry about her, Dani,” Miles says, gleefully taking the opportunity to step on his younger sister. He also raises his voice to make sure Dani hears his apology, because apparently he hasn’t made his crush on her obvious enough yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A </span>
  <em>
    <span>little </span>
  </em>
  <span>quieter. Please,” Dani sighs, forcing an empathetic look in their direction. “I get it, siblings are annoying”— no one has to know she’s an only child— “but noise from customers is about all I can handle today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Dani,” Flora says earnestly, and that manages to pull a wan smile out of Dani, until her assertive young coworker decides to add, “Why don’t you go grab some milk from the walk-in? It’s bound to be quieter back there, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>Miles-free.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani has no better option than to obey, and she leaves Flora to shoo her brother out of the shop. Chilling out (literally) in the walk-in fridge sounds too good to be true. And apparently it is, because when Dani opens the fridge door, she instead walks into roaring flames. There Jamie is, hefting a cardboard box in one arm while her other hand is outstretched, apparently about to push open the door at the moment Dani swings it open. Dani’s face is scorched, her cheeks like stove burners. She leaps back, sputtering an apology while Jamie, equally startled, stumbles forward. Somehow, they meet somewhere in the middle, and would surely be nose to nose if it weren’t for the box between them. Dani is close enough to see the darker flecks in Jamie’s closed-off eyes, and she’s almost positive Jamie can hear her heartbeat. Well, people down the block can probably hear it too, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>still. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She swats her braid over her shoulder and gulps. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Seriously,</span>
  </em>
  <span> how many times are they going to be in this exact situation?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie jerks her head so that Dani moves aside to let her by. She sets the heavy box down on the counter next to the sink and turns back around. Swift fingers find Dani’s nametag and straighten it before retreating again. “It’s like you leave it crooked on purpose,” she mutters, already shifting her attention back to opening the box.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani hesitates. </span>
  <em>
    <span>So what if I do? </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Um... did I say ‘sorry’ yet? Because I totally didn’t mean to scare you— I mean, it would’ve been bad if you dropped that on your foot or someth—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t scare me,” Jamie jumps to clarify. Oh, of course. How could Dani forget that it’s impossible to frighten the impenetrable Jamie Taylor?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie shoots a grin over her shoulder. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“God,</span>
  </em>
  <span> you’re just made of anxiety, aren’t you? Go on.” She points back up front, but before Dani can go, Flora appears with a blender.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I made some extra caramel frappe, if anyone wants it.” Then a devilish little smirk forms on her coworker’s face, and Dani’s anxiety— the very fabric of her own </span>
  <em>
    <span>self, </span>
  </em>
  <span>evidently— spikes. “Dani, you’ve been back here a while. What are you two doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Talking,” Jamie grunts. “Which is what you shouldn’t be doing. Get back up front, there’s customers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s none, actually,” Flora says, leaning against a shelf and crossing her arms. “So tell me, when’s the wedding?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani is beyond lost, but Jamie’s response is an exasperated groan. “What are you, eight?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flora smiles. “At heart, </span>
  <em>
    <span>always.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She blinks at Dani. “Dani, did you grab the milk?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Hold on, I’ll get it.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>It’s been a week since Hannah’s visit, and every day Dani has tried to refine her tea making skills. But she’s just not getting anywhere with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Later that day, Owen passes her holding a tray of croissants. He watches Dani pour yet another failed experiment down the drain and offers her a sympathetic grin which his mustache smirks right along with. “No matter,” he says. “You can stick to charming customers and serving my delicious pastries.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Apparently serving pastries is all I’m good at,” Dani sighs. “That, and being a pain in Jamie’s ass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Owen pauses, thinking over his answer, which prods at Dani’s curiosity. Before she can think too much into it, though, he only says, “Oh, no you’re not. If Jamie didn’t like you, you wouldn’t still be here. She has the authority to fire people if she thinks they’re a bad fit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani watches him walk away and stands frozen in wonder. So all this time, Jamie could’ve kicked her to the curb? She would have </span>
  <em>
    <span>every right</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do exactly that. They work in a </span>
  <em>
    <span>coffee shop, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and for the first month every drink Dani made tasted like she stirred around a single coffee bean in a vat of hot pond water. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why</span>
  </em>
  <span> is she still here?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Back up front, a line of customers have assembled in the lobby, so Dani jumps back into helping alongside Flora and Jamie. She also unintentionally stumbles into the middle of their conversation, and tries to catch on the topic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you scared off another one, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie scoffs. “It’s not like that. Landlord just keeps approving shitty people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know how that feels,” Dani pipes up. She didn’t really mean to insert herself, but curiosity always tends to drag her just a little farther than intended. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie peers over at her from the register with a flicker of understanding, or so Dani hopes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Oh, this is </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Flora exclaims suddenly. Both Dani and Jamie glance over at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flora pops a lid on top of a to-go cup and hands it to a customer. While ringing them up, she explains, “Isn’t it obvious? Jamie, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dani </span>
  </em>
  <span>should be your new flatmate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes! She’s miserable where she is, her flat is ‘absolute crap,’ those were your exact words, Dani. And Jamie, you said you won’t be able to last long taking on the brunt of the rent by yourself. You’re already familiar with each other, so there’s no awkward introduction process. You should trust each other at least a little by now. I mean, come on. It’s perfect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just because the awkward introduction part is past us doesn’t mean it’s not still awkward. But that’s all on me, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dani thinks. She digs her teeth into her lower lip and risks a glance at Jamie, who is glaring at Flora like she just killed her dog. Or her orchid plant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flora tilts her head innocently. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani decides it’s worth taking a chance to respond first, and besides, she truly does despise her current living situation. “I mean...” She lifts her shoulders into a shrug that isn’t any more or less innocent than Flora’s head tilt. “It’s not the </span>
  <em>
    <span>worst</span>
  </em>
  <span> idea ever? I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie’s laugh is more like a bark, harsh and brittle. “Yeah, right. With all due respect, Poppins, I’m not the type to cuddle with my roommate, eat dinner together, and braid each other’s hair. I keep to myself, and somehow I get the feeling you wouldn’t like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani keeps her face neutral. “I never mentioned any cuddling requirements. And anyway, I know you don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>hate </span>
  </em>
  <span>me. You’ve said as much, right?” </span>
  <em>
    <span>And you’ve found a nickname for me that you like, one that’s stuck. Whatever that means. </span>
  </em>
</p><p><span>“Oh, so </span><em><span>now</span></em><span> you’re all confident? Where're you keeping an open bottle of tequila around here? I would love</span> <span>some, too.”</span></p><p>
  <span>Dani’s teeth sink further into her lip, and she turns away for a moment to help a customer. A minute later, she and Jamie end up leaning into the pastry case at the same time. Dani sighs but doesn’t look at her when she mumbles belatedly, “I don’t think it’d be that bad.” She straightens, drops her customer’s chosen danish on a plate, and looks up to find Jamie staring at her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But it could be bad. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani stares back. Jamie hums cryptically then breaks eye contact again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It could be very bad. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Later that night after close, Dani is once again out in the lobby doing her dance with the mop. From the back, the blaring boom of Jamie’s playlist clashes with Owen’s giggly phone conversation with Hannah. Eventually he hangs up and Dani hears him sigh wistfully, “Ah, nothing’s better than that woman’s laugh. I really am in a </span>
  <em>
    <span>batter </span>
  </em>
  <span>place when I’m talking to her. Get it, Jamie? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Batter—” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Suddenly, Jamie’s music becomes louder, and Dani chuckles despite herself, imagining Owen’s disappointed face and frowning mustache. </span>
  <em>
    <span>So Jamie hates brilliant puns. Noted. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Those two are totally a thing, you know, but they’ll never admit it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani springs out of her reverie, nearly tripping over the mop as she spins to find Flora has materialized nearby, wiping tables. “Holy sh...” she trails off, focusing instead on what her coworker just said. “Wait, who’s a thing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Owen and Hannah,” Flora says. “And I think Jamie’s jealous of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Dani frowns. She’s never gotten that impression, but Jamie isn’t exactly a window into her feelings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.” Flora quits wiping for a second to wink at Dani. “And the louder her music gets, the more emotional she is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And all she listens to is Lorde, Hayley Kiyoko, girl in red...” Flora continues, counting off artists on her thin fingers. “Pretty obvious, if you ask me.” Dani gives her a blank look, so Flora clarifies with an exasperated eye roll, “Two words: gay yearning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” Pause. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh.</span>
  </em>
  <span> So, um, Jamie’s...”— Dani lowers her voice conspiratorially, as if there is any chance of their subject overhearing— “... gay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now it is Flora’s turn to stare. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and you are...?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Dani can respond, Jamie’s music cuts off and she comes out front to survey their progress in the lobby. “Can you lot hurry up? I’d like to get home at a decent hour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m almost done,” Dani says quickly, pushing the mop over the last bit of untouched floor space. Her mind is swimming with astonishment. So. Jamie </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>gay. Jamie likes girls. So that means there’s a chance— </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop. No. You’ve known she’s gay since you met her, deep down you always knew. And apparently you’re more obvious than you thought, despite acting straight for some twenty-five years.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But it was Danielle from Iowa who could put on a show and pass as straight. Not the new Dani in London, apparently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fifteen minutes later, Owen and Flora have said their goodnights and it’s just the two of them. Dani stands shivering in the autumn chill and watches Jamie fiddle with the key in the back door. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s freezing. What are you waiting around for? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dani stands there, too lazy to button up her coat and instead crossing her arms to hold it closed. Dani stands there, looking at the curls escaping Jamie’s beanie to fall in her face. “Damn thing,” she grunts, leaning all her weight into the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here, let me help,” Dani offers before thinking it through. Jamie starts to protest, but Dani steps forward and places her hands over Jamie’s, enclosing frosty fingers in a grip firm enough to get the lock to click shut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie stands back and scratches her head. “Thanks.” She averts her gaze at first, but soon caves to the eye contact Dani stubbornly seeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, just... hear me out,” Dani says softly. “Is living with me </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> worse than not being able to pay rent? I know the last thing you want is to see even more of me, but you wouldn’t have to, we would have our own spaces in the apartment. And about the braiding each other’s hair thing— I am pretty great at doing hair, actually, thanks to a million YouTube tutorials. So, um, I can cover the hair braiding thing, and you can make the coffee in the morning.” Jamie’s expression is unreadable through the haze of nerves clouding Dani’s vision, so she plasters on a weak smile to clear away the tension. “It could be a— a mutually beneficial arrangement.” Jamie is silent. “Sorry, I’m rambling. Just... give it some thought, please? I know it’s crazy, but... I’m kind of desperate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a second, an irritated sigh scrapes through Jamie’s lungs. She kicks at the ground and says, “Fockin’ hell. I’ll think about it, alright?” She meets Dani’s eyes seriously. “Only because I’m desperate, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani twists around one of the buttons on her coat. “Fair enough,” she agrees. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Only because we’re desperate and low on options. That’s all. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her head gives an involuntary shake, maybe from frustration, or maybe from the cold. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What was Flora talking about? What could this woman possibly be yearning for? Lifelong seclusion, probably. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Whatever it is, it sure couldn’t be Dani. Which is fine, because Dani doesn’t feel anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hesitation hangs heavy in the air between them. But Dani doesn’t feel a thing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Really. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie turns to leave, but then stops, only moving her head back in Dani’s direction. “That... isn’t true, by the way. What you said.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An indent forms in Dani’s brow. “What do you mean? I spent hours learning hair techniques—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not about the hair,” Jamie interrupts, impatience glinting in the slight smile that stumbles onto her lips. “I mean the... not wanting to see more of you.” Her hands hide in her pockets. “You’re not that bad, Poppins.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani balks. Silence stretches, and Jamie shifts her weight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, anyway. Good ni—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t... you don’t have to pretend to be nice or anything,” Dani finally says. “We’re just coworkers. And if we do end up becoming roommates, I won’t, like, poison your tea or something if you’re a little mean to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie smirks. “You won’t be making my tea, so...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But— you know what I mean,” Dani laughs. “What I’m saying is, it’s not a big deal how you treat me. I can take it. You’re not that bad, either. I know that now, and—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Next thing Dani knows, Jamie’s lips are on hers. Her words are swallowed into oblivion, and suddenly nothing else really matters anymore. But it passes in a flash, and Jamie backs away far too soon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a long moment, silence cloaks them once again. Dani is completely and utterly awestruck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just... needed you to stop talking,” Jamie murmurs. She takes a small step backward, then a sprawling one. “Night, Poppins.” With that, she turns and disappears around the corner of the building. Any coherent thoughts in Dani’s brain melt into the night right along with her.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Jamie is already on her second drink by the time Rebecca sits down across from her in the booth. She throws her coat and bag next to her and flags down the waitress. Once she’s placed her drink order, Becca eyes the one empty glass and one almost-empty glass sitting in front of Jamie. “That kind of day, huh? What is that, your—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Second,” Jamie mutters. “Second one for here. My one day off for the entire month, and I spent it drunk. Been guzzling like a damn Hummer since eleven.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Day drinking? Double oof.” Becca accepts her beer from the waitress and thanks her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hard not to when I literally live a floor up from a pub,” Jamie points out, waving a sloppy index finger in the general direction of the ceiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I’m in no place to judge.” Becca lowers her mouth to her straw and fixes concerned eyes on her friend. “So, what’s the matter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie slouches back in the booth and pushes around the ice in her drink. “I might have a new flatmate soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know her, actually. Does the name Dani Clayton ring a bell?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Becca’s eyes pop out of her head. “Okay, wow. How did </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>happen?”</span>
</p><p><span>“Flora poked around in business that isn’t hers, and planted the idea in Dani’s head. Guess she hates her current place, and doesn’t hate me enough to not</span> <span>want to live with me.” Jamie slurps the last of her IPA and lifts her hand for a third. “I’m not against the idea, but...”</span></p><p>
  <span>“So then what’s the problem? Dani’s a sweetheart. That’s been established. I’m sure she’d make a lovely flatmate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie squeezes her eyes shut. “You know what the problem is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Think about the positive: ‘Don’t shit where you eat’ might not apply anymore if you’re also living together,” Becca says.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jamie needs to keep drinking until her surroundings look like watercolors. “Becca, I kissed her.” She’s met with stunned silence, so Jamie continues digging her grave. “She was talking a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and it— I don’t know, she was being annoyingly cute, and I just... I kissed her to make her shut up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. And... how did she respond?”</span>
</p><p><span>“Well, it worked, so... she didn’t. I didn’t let her, I left before I could see her reaction.” Jamie presses her forehead into her fist. “Dammit, I don’t </span><em><span>know</span></em><span> why</span> <span>I did it. You know I’m not usually this... </span><em><span>forward. </span></em><span>But I just fucked everything up, I know it. So don’t act surprised if you find out she’s quit.”</span></p><p>
  <span>Becca rolls her eyes. “Oh, please. If you seriously still think that girl is straight, you’re losing it. She literally said she dumped her fiance because, and I quote, ‘he was a man.’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gay or not, that doesn’t mean she’s into me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really are losing it,” Becca asserts, shaking her head in defeat. “Anyway, please let me know when it’s official so we can plan a double date with her and Peter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooh boy, a double date with you and Peter Griffin? I’ll be available for that </span>
  <em>
    <span>never.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Becca clicks her tongue. “Touche. But really, at the </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>least, you should consider the flatmates thing. Better her than a complete stranger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie is close to grinding her teeth into a pulp. “I’m not so sure. Who knows what the other, non-work side of Poppins is like? You expect me to </span>
  <em>
    <span>enjoy </span>
  </em>
  <span>getting to see her put in her 80s gold hoop earrings every morning? I’m supposed to </span>
  <em>
    <span>like </span>
  </em>
  <span>seeing her crying in her pajamas over a dumb Netflix drama? Thanks, but no thanks.”</span>
</p><p><span>“No,” Becca says, deadpan. “You’ll </span><em><span>love </span></em><span>seeing all that.” She leans forward, staring at Jamie through mischievously narrowed eyes. “I see the way you look at her </span><em><span>and </span></em><span>the way she looks at you. Flora isn’t stupid, she meddled for a reason. You would love</span> <span>it if Dani had more ‘screen time’ in your life.”</span></p><p>
  <span>Jamie shakes her head vigorously, and it leaves her mind spinning. “Not in my </span>
  <em>
    <span>personal life. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Not in my </span>
  <em>
    <span>home.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>To her extreme frustration, Rebecca only laughs at her. “Whatever. You’ll cave. You’ve already met your next flatmate, love.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>A crisp October morning sees Dani loading her few possessions— all of it is contained in just two suitcases— into the trunk of Owen’s car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe this is happening,” Jamie says from the passenger seat. She tugs at the sleeve of her flannel as if the oversized shirt will be able to swallow her whole.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quiet, or else she’ll hear how thrilled you are,” Owen says, offering her a pat on the shoulder. He receives a less-than-friendly arm punch in response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A moment later Dani scoots into the backseat, humming cheerfully as she clicks in her seatbelt. “Thanks again for driving me over, Owen! I really appreciate it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s my pleasure,” he says as they pull away from the curb. “I’m glad my moving van was able to fit all your things.” Jamie shoots him a look, because they’re in a fucking hatchback.</span>
</p><p><span>Dani’s thoughts drift as she stares out the window, observing the oranges and browns of London in the fall. The layout of the roads here still confuses the hell out of her, but at this point that’s one of the less confusing things in her life. Her eyes can’t help but float over to Jamie, whose face is hidden from view from where Dani is sitting. For the past week, her mind hasn’t stopped playing that kiss on repeat, and the only conclusion Dani has reached is that it was</span> <span>too damn </span><em><span>quick.</span></em><span> God, how could she have been so </span><em><span>wrong </span></em><span>about things?</span></p><p>
  <span>“Do you care if I smoke?” she asks abruptly, scrambling for her purse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, that’s fine,” Owen responds. Dani mumbles a grateful </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Thanks” </span>
  </em>
  <span>then lights up and cracks open her window, not wanting to invite too much chill into the car. She kills a few minutes of panic blowing smoke out the window, then suddenly a hand bobs in her vision.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Care to share?” Jamie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani gulps and gingerly brushes the cigarette against Jamie’s fingers until she gets a safe grasp on it. Dani watches her steal a single inhale before handing the cig back over, never turning around once. All Dani can think about when the cigarette touches her lips again is where it had been just seconds earlier.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m so fucked. </span>
  </em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Dani makes quick work of moving into the second, smaller bedroom in the flat. Jamie gives her a “grand” tour which lasts approximately three minutes, concluding it with </span>
  <em>
    <span>“And don’t touch my plants.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Then she camps out in front of her wheezy old laptop for a few hours which pass in a blink. When Dani offers to treat them to Chinese takeout, Jamie doesn’t argue. And when Dani returns carrying a plastic bag with the giant smiley face grinning between the words “THANK YOU,” and she quietly extracts her food from the bag before retreating behind the closed door of her room, Jamie doesn’t argue that, either. They have an early morning tomorrow. It is what it is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only it doesn’t end there. An hour past midnight, Jamie finds herself gazing up at her bedroom ceiling. Her alarm, firmly set for 5 AM, is a non-negotiable ticking bomb on her nightstand, but she can’t sleep. A fact: Jamie’s room shares a wall with Dani’s. The problem: said wall is </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>thin, thinner than Jamie’s patience.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before she really realizes what she’s doing, Jamie’s tired brain starts building a hazy vision of what Dani’s room looks like from the brief glimpse she had earlier that day. Sparse, no framed photos, her only apparent mementos soft and plush— a homemade quilt and fistfuls of scrunchies. Now the only thing left to add in the picture is Dani herself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t do it. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She does it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie turns onto her side, bunching up her pillow in her fists and burying half her face in it. She strains to listen for any sign of life on the other side of the wall, even the slightest rustle or murmur. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why are you doing this? Stop it. Stop it! </span>
  </em>
  <span>How dare she commit such an invasion of privacy less than 24 hours in, however mild it may be? Jamie closes her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The knock on her door is so slight, Jamie nearly dismisses it as simply a noise produced by the old building. But then a voice accompanies the gentle rapping, and it’s impossible to ignore. A swear slips off her tongue on instinct as Jamie sits up. She doesn’t bother to check how much time has passed, just gets up and shuffles to the door and opens it a sliver.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dressed down in a t-shirt and sweatpants, her face bare and beautiful, Dani looks perfectly small enough to fit in the narrow space Jamie allows between the door and its frame. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I— I couldn’t sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Jamie says dumbly. She fastens her fingers on the waistband of her boxer shorts, unsure how to respond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I, um, come in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie gawks at her. Did she hear that correctly? Her mind wanders back to her recent conversation with Becca. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m not usually this... forward. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But Dani is here, </span>
  <em>
    <span>right here, </span>
  </em>
  <span>looking at her with these big hopeful eyes and— “Uh, yeah.” Jamie opens the door wider and moves aside to let her through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani’s pleading look breaks into a relieved smile. So now Jamie gets to see Dani’s real, full smile: unabashed, all teeth and joy. It’s a wonderful sight to behold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she doesn’t get to admire it for long before it melds with her own mouth in a bruising kiss. Jamie returns the embrace hungrily, a moan vibrating in her throat when an eager hand snakes under her shirt. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” Dani sighs into her neck, tracing a tantalizing path between Jamie’s hip bones, “about us,” she presses lips into skin, sucking on Jamie’s pulse point, “about doing </span>
  <em>
    <span>this.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“No... no strings attached,” Jamie begs. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m not hurting you. I refuse. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“No strings attached,” Dani agrees, and Jamie’s heart heaves a sigh of solace. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Good. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie moves in to renew that kiss, but Dani’s burning breath abruptly withdraws from her neck. Puzzled, Jamie trips backward into her bed and looks over to see Dani back on the other side of her bedroom door, crammed into that sliver of space once more. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Come back. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dani peers at her, unconvinced. She disappears and a second later Jamie hears her door close.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wakes up alone, tangled in nothing but her sheets. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re a fucking disaster.</span>
  </em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Walking home from work together is weird. The fact that </span>
  <em>
    <span>home </span>
  </em>
  <span>means the same place for both of them is weird. All Dani wants is a seamless transition, to just fall into this new kind of existence together, no matter how strange the circumstances are. But with each passing day since Dani’s move, Jamie feels less and less like just a coworker, kiss or no kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I still can’t believe how </span>
  <em>
    <span>rude</span>
  </em>
  <span> that guy was,” Dani says as they hustle across the street. A car idles at the crosswalk waiting for them to pass by, and its glaring headlights turn patches of Jamie’s hair bronze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t tell me you’re shocked. Londoners are arseholes, the entire lot of ‘em,” Jamie replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They turn onto their block, and what Dani says next is bookended by Jamie’s amused snorts. “Still! Who gets so uptight about how much foam is on their latte? </span>
  <em>
    <span>And </span>
  </em>
  <span>he got it in a to-go cup, so he couldn’t even see what was under the lid, and he has the nerve to say ‘This feels too heavy!’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, I know. It’s batshit insane.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously, it was easier dealing with second-grade meltdowns!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ten minutes later, Jamie is curled on the sofa with her laptop while Dani is perched at the other end a safe distance away. She doesn’t want a repeat of the awkwardness from the first night, so here they are, sharing space but existing in their own corners. Dani has a glass of pinot grigio and the TV remote to her right, and Jamie’s sock-covered feet to her left. Focusing on the movie she flipped on is out of the question. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently if Dani wants to get anything productive done (like proving to her mother and the others she left in the States that she’s still alive by posting a cryptic status update on Facebook, or searching for better job opportunities, though that’s become less of a priority for reasons unmentionable), she has to tuck herself into her room behind a closed door. Dani has never been a big fan of closed doors, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before her brain can talk her out of what the wine has talked her into, Dani presses the mute button and glances over at Jamie with a sigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no,” Jamie says without looking up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani’s brow furrows. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want to talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani’s eyes flick over to the TV screen, staring at the closed captions but not actually reading them. “We don’t have to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie won’t look away from her computer screen, but Dani notices her hands freeze over the mousepad. “Depends what we talk about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You kissed me. How about we start there? </span>
  </em>
  <span>“I... I feel like you know more about me than I know about you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani tucks her legs under herself and adjusts her position so Jamie is the center of her vision. “What’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>your </span>
  </em>
  <span>story, Ms. Taylor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Finally, </span>
  </em>
  <span>blessedly, Jamie lowers her laptop screen. “That’s a cute idea, Poppins, but here’s the thing. In my life, I’ve found that humans are exhausting and not worth the effort. Even you. Even me. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Especially</span>
  </em>
  <span> me. So don’t waste your time.” Dani’s heart drops as Jamie lifts the screen again, and something in her snaps. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m up for a challenge.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Dani says. Jamie’s head whips back upward. “No. You asked me the same question, and I answered it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We were </span>
  <em>
    <span>drinking,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jamie emphasizes, but her argument doesn’t have much to stand on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t matter. You asked and I answered it. Some small fraction of you </span>
  <em>
    <span>must </span>
  </em>
  <span>care at least a little bit. Right?” Dani takes a long sip of wine, temporarily washing down the words she really wants to say that keep crawling back up her throat. “I wish I hadn’t spilled so much,” she adds quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie forcefully shuts her laptop and sets it on the coffee table. “Fine, I’ll bite.” Her throat visibly trembles around a swallow, then she launches into it. “My parents got married young. They had me and my older brother, then my dad served in the armed forces for a while. Mum cheated non-stop while he was gone, producing my younger brother. A week after Dad got home, she left us, and he couldn’t juggle three kids, one who wasn’t even his, so he left us alone a lot to work and keep us afloat. Then one day there was an accident...” Jamie pulls her fuzzy blanket over her chest, meeting Dani’s eyes for the first time since she started speaking. Dani wishes she could hug her. “We got put into foster care. Eventually I put myself through school, got a business degree, opened a flower shop. And you know how that part of the story ends.” All of a sudden she kicks off the blanket and hops off the couch, storming into the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani sits there, jaw stiff and throat constricted. She stares at the wall as if she can see Jamie through it, but all she can do is listen to her roommate open then slam the fridge door. She soon returns holding the neck of the entire pinot bottle in a white-knuckled grip. She drops back onto the couch and twists off the cap, pointing the bottle’s open mouth in Dani’s direction. Dani accepts the wordless offer, holding out her wine glass. Jamie pours until the pale liquid is lapping at the rim, then takes a swig herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There,” she says, clicking her tongue and cradling the bottle in her lap. “My end of the oversharing bargain is fulfilled.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You... you didn’t have to do that,” Dani finally breaks her silence. “But... I’m glad you did.” There’s an almost irresistible pull in the air between them, but Dani shoves her drink in her face again rather than acknowledging it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S’pose I wanted to, after all.” Jamie pauses, picking at the label on the bottle. “I never do anything I don’t want to do, even if I don’t realize till after that it’s something I wanted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani swallows around the cluster of words in her throat. She thinks that now, just maybe, she knows what she wants more than what she needs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” Jamie continues, “obviously you think there’s no one left who cares about you in the States. You ran away. Is that right?” Dani stares into her drink. “You’ve already said a bit,” Jamie prompts. “Might as well go all the way, if you’re comfortable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Family stuff?” Dani’s dry chuckle is a knife in her lungs. “As far as that goes, it’s not great. It was just me and my parents. My dad died when I was six, so my mom just... drank and drank like that would change the fact he was gone.” Dani looks at her wine, and her stomach twists. “All I had in the world was Eddie. My best friend. And that’s what he was for years... until about ten months ago. I was going to marry him, and—” Dani’s voice cuts off, and tears blur her vision. Besides that one tequila-inspired slip up, this is the first time she’s spoken about it out loud, tormenting her tongue with it instead of just her brain. The loss of his companionship has weighed so heavy on her, and it’s a burden Dani knows she deserves to shoulder alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it’s only the two of them in this small, plant-filled flat, and Dani feels like she’s speaking directly to her own heart. That’s what she can do to ease her mind: disguise this as a poor man’s therapy session. Jamie is just her surly coworker-turned-roommate. Nothing more, but also nothing less. Then Jamie speaks again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You, um...” She balances the bottle on her knee. Dani’s eyes flash between Jamie’s pensive face and the wine crashing like waves inside the glass. “You said you ended things with your fiance because was a man. Do— do you remember you said that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani gives a tiny nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’re...” Jamie waves her hand like that’s a valid replacement for the word she says anyway a second later. “Gay.” Now she plays a game of charades with Dani’s facial expressions. “You’re— you were closeted, weren’t you? For your entire life?” Dani says nothing, but that alone tells Jamie everything. She shakes her head slowly, the wine bottle’s mouth grazing Jamie’s lips in a way Dani wishes her own would. “Who the hell knew,” Jamie murmurs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Danielle from Iowa knew but didn’t want to know. Dani in London knows very well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, it’s not fair,” Dani says after a minute, “that you kissed me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the other end of the sofa, Jamie seems to shrink. “I’m sorry,” she tells her seriously. “I should’ve asked—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Dani interrupts, her mind going a million miles a second. “It’s not fair that— that you decided you were ready before I realized I’m ready too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie is frozen. “What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani has never seen eyes that are so much like crystal yet so unclear. But with her own face like an open book, she hopes Jamie has a good idea of where Dani is going. She puts her wine glass on the coffee table, neatly nestling it between a potted cactus and an ashtray filled with pruned petals. She then crawls along the sofa until she has nowhere else to go but Jamie’s lips. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I know now.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie lets her lean in all the way, her breath warm and soft on Dani’s skin. Dani ghosts her mouth over hers. “I want you,” she whispers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie’s lips press into Dani’s, but she doesn’t move them. “Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani peers at her through half-lidded eyes. Jamie’s gaze is dark and impossibly inviting. Dani gives an almost imperceptible nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“O- okay. May I—?” Dani shuts her up with a searing kiss, her thoughts scrambling— </span>
  <em>
    <span>We’re coworkers, we live together, this is crazy, I shouldn’t— </span>
  </em>
  <span>until they run away completely. She doesn’t want to confront these feelings in any other way besides this: sitting astride Jamie on the couch, pinning her into the pillows, tasting the bitterness on her tongue, rich like a cup of black coffee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie buries her fingers in Dani’s loose hair so that they’ll never be untangled. Everything about her is warm: her hands massaging Dani’s scalp, her torso between Dani’s thighs, the velvet in her mouth. At last, the out-of-control flames seem to be at bay, and now all Dani feels is their gentle glow from afar. This is good. She can handle this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both pull away for a breath, and in the gap between them Jamie squeezes in a proposition: “Remember what you said about a ‘mutually beneficial arrangement’?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still breathless, Dani can only nod again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s... consider that, yeah?” Jamie mumbles. “It doesn’t... have to be complicated.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Okay.” Dani’s heart sits on the back of her tongue. She hopes Jamie doesn’t accidentally swallow it when she goes in to kiss her again.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The following day, Jamie is still stuck in the night before. In between serving customers, she thinks about Dani on top of her, Dani rolling her hips, Dani whining softly into her mouth, her moans subdued as if she was afraid someone would walk in on them. The other, non-work side of Dani Clayton is the woman who grabbed Jamie’s half-finished bottle of merlot off the kitchen counter and popped the cork out of it with her bare teeth, then said as she topped off her glass, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Gotta be kind and re-wine, you know.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh, </span>
  </em>
  <span>what a delicious hate Jamie has.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But at Cafe Viola, it’s nothing but a secret, or so Jamie hopes. On the outside, she still orders Dani around, still nitpicks at her, because there’s no denying Dani is still annoying at work. It’s a shame they have to spend so much time at work, because anywhere, </span>
  <em>
    <span>anywhere</span>
  </em>
  <span> else they could—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey.” Dani appears at her elbow, filling a to-go cup with dark roast. “Um, I think we might be almost out of cinnamon rolls?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Check in the back, Owen probably froze some,” Jamie replies, but she’s on another planet now. She thinks back to last night, at home, a place where Dani now suddenly, inexplicably belongs. November looms outside, its frosty talons outstretched, but Jamie keeps plants of all seasons inside the flat. And last night, Jamie had wandered back into the living room to find Dani by the window, lightly tracing the thick, rounded edge of a leaf on a plant on the sill.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t ever let anyone touch my plants,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jamie said, sauntering across the room. The closer she got to Dani, the more she felt her lingering touch, leftover from when she’d been all over her minutes earlier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani retracted her hand as though burned. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“That’s right. I’m sorry.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie stood next to her, gently brushing her fingertips along the same leaf. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“African violets,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she explained, feeling Dani look at her, but keeping her eyes steadily on the flowers. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Fragile, and finicky as all hell, but worth the bloom. It needs a lot of light, but it must be indirect, so I’ve found that putting it on the window sill at night is perfect. It drinks in moonlight like wine.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani continued to stare at her until finally Jamie returned the look. Jamie wanted to hold her hand, to trace over each of her knuckles for hours.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You know,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dani said after a moment, a shy smile fighting to be seen on her lips, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“my, um, my middle name is Violet, so I always thought that violets must have to be my favorite flower by default.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She paused. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“But... it doesn’t have to be a default, because they really are beautiful.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>That really did happen last night. It wasn’t a dream. And, as far as Jamie can see ahead, there will be other nights, </span>
  <em>
    <span>more </span>
  </em>
  <span>nights like that, where they’re friends— yeah, friends, it feels good to say that— just pushing the boundaries a little bit. It brings on a mixture of delight and terror. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Back in Cafe Viola the next morning, Jamie watches Dani go to the back to investigate the cinnamon bun situation. Little does Dani know, she holds Jamie’s heart in her hands like putty, and she’s pulling it into new shapes, stretching it into something bigger to include feelings Jamie never knew she was capable of. But damn, the poor girl still can’t make a good cup of tea.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. winter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The problem is simple: Dani keeps falling asleep in Jamie’s bed wearing nothing but a bra and pajama pants, and it is the most glorious sight Jamie has ever seen. So yeah, Dani can sleep over in Jamie’s room, that’s fine. There are ways to still give each other space in a single bed. Sometimes half of Jamie’s body is falling off the edge of the bed just to give Dani her space. But that’s fine, too.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>so i'm throwing in a tiny bit of fake dating and secret relationship to add to the endless list of tropes (gotta keep things spicy ya know), but i don't think they play a big enough role to actually tag. also oops a small amount of angst tripped and fell in here i'm sorry i don't make the rules... i just write them :)</p><p>again, thank you all so, so much for the love on the last chapter!! i went through all your comments again today and you guys just make me so happy. thank you. and i'm sorry this chapter is coming out a bit later than i wanted it to, but an extra 4k words kind of just happened, and i take forever to edit, so here we are.</p><p>before i let you go, just know that what I'M haunted by is the image of victoria pedretti in my bed wearing a bra and pj pants.....much to think about, my fellow gays</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Flora is roughly three quarters of the way through a </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>involved story about her boyfriend (which actually seems more like a series of complaints loosely strung together, not unlike the haphazard macaroni necklaces Dani used to have her second-graders make; it’s all </span>
  <em>
    <span>“he said” </span>
  </em>
  <span>this, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“perfectly dreadful” </span>
  </em>
  <span>that) and Dani is only half-listening to her at this point.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luckily, Jamie swoops in to rescue her just in time. A minor snow squall outside has temporarily cleared Cafe Viola of any customers, so the main task Dani resigned herself to for the past twenty minutes was listening and nodding along to Flora’s tale of woe. Jamie’s timing couldn’t be more perfect, though if Dani were to tell the truth, she would accept her invitation at any time or place. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Is that too clingy? No, no... I just like her... a lot. There’s nothing wrong with liking someone. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna go grab milk from the walk-in,” Jamie announces. She breezes past Dani and Flora as she says this, her fingertips grazing Dani’s wrist for the splittest of seconds. Her tone comes off casual, but Dani knows better. Learning to decode the language of Jamie Taylor has been a frustrating yet rewarding experience, and Dani prides herself on her newfound fluency.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She waits the previously decided three minutes, trying </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> to look like she’s checking her watch every three seconds. Wearing an actual watch is a habit carried over from her teaching days, which hopefully aren’t behind her. Dani has found it a useful accessory to have when she can’t check her phone in the middle of a busy shift (and, more recently, it’s been useful for these specific </span>
  <em>
    <span>occasions).</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Flora offers herself as tribute to serve a couple of grumbling customers who have just blown inside to shelter from the storm. Right at that moment, three minutes have passed, and Dani takes advantage of the distraction to slip away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s nice to have a hiding place, Dani thinks. The walk-in isn’t exactly a </span>
  <em>
    <span>secret </span>
  </em>
  <span>spot, considering anyone could, well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>walk in</span>
  </em>
  <span> on them at any second. But that’s the thrill of it. They have all the privacy and time they could want back at the flat, but these little pockets of spontaneity hit differently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani swings open the heavy fridge door with barely a grunt. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jamie will be right there, perched at the edge of the doorway, and sure enough, she’s right where she’s expected, never one to disappoint.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fancy seeing you here, Poppins,” Jamie says. Dani wants to swallow that smirk whole.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie opens her mouth to continue the act, but Dani doesn’t have the patience in her this time. She presses a hand into Jamie’s chest, urging her back inside the fridge, and in one smooth motion mumbles “Stop talking” before fisting Jamie’s collar in her hands and bringing her lips to hers. She can still feel that damned persistent smirk against her mouth, but Dani isn’t inclined to complain about it.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Jamie can’t remember what her morning routine used to be. She can vaguely recall that she used to associate “flatmate” with a person who she should avoid like the plague and constantly be pissed at. Now, that is quite the opposite of the case.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The main detail of Jamie’s revised mornings that her brain clings to is the exact moment when she hands Dani her cup of coffee. It used to be as simple as passing the mug from one set of hands to another, but now touches linger (or, in Jamie’s opinion, </span>
  <em>
    <span>loiter). </span>
  </em>
  <span>Deeper meaning lurks just beneath the surface, but Jamie would rather not acknowledge anything deep about her mornings with Dani. She is just fine paddling around in the shallows, simply enjoying the brush of Dani’s skin against hers when she hands over the coffee mug. No complex thoughts allowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it’s also worth noting that Dani is always fresh out of the shower during this encounter. Without fail, her hair will be swept up out of the way in a bun, or maybe a braid so it can dry into waves, and every time Jamie is able to see the drops of water Dani didn’t catch with her towel sliding down the side of her neck. And some mornings, Jamie can’t resist the urge to catch those drops with her tongue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then one day in mid-December, a monster snowstorm complete with howling winds and pounding sleet buries the entire city. Just for today, London is on lockdown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s strange waking up in the middle of the week and not having to go to work. That’s more strange, actually, than Jamie waking up with Dani in arm’s reach (not to be confused with </span>
  <em>
    <span>in </span>
  </em>
  <span>her arms). Jamie honestly thinks that Dani barely remembers what her own bedroom looks like anymore, ever since their agreement that </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah, you should probably return to your own room as soon as we’re done, it’s important to give each other space” </span>
  </em>
  <span>quickly fizzled out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie really did mean to uphold that agreement, but the problem is simple: Dani keeps falling asleep in Jamie’s bed wearing nothing but a bra and pajama pants, and it is the most glorious sight Jamie has ever seen. So yeah, Dani can sleep over in Jamie’s room, that’s fine. There are ways to still give each other space in a single bed. Sometimes half of Jamie’s body is falling off the edge of the bed just to give Dani her space. But that’s fine, too. (Surprisingly, Dani tends to cure, rather than exacerbate, those resulting backaches when she presses Jamie against a shelf in the walk-in at work.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The day of the snowstorm begins no differently. Jamie’s spine is at the edge of the mattress, and when she opens her eyes, Dani’s face fills her vision. The rest of the room is there too, of course, but Jamie can only see Dani’s face: slack and serene, stress lines in her forehead smoothed over by sleep, the typical worry tugging down the corners of her mouth momentarily erased. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie doesn’t let her eyes travel farther than that, because it would be too much, just like kissing Dani’s forehead right now would be too much. Jamie beats down the impulse to kiss her anyway, because friends don’t affectionately kiss friends like that. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah, but it’s totally fine for friends to sleep in each other’s beds and fuck on the sofa in their shared flat, </span>
  </em>
  <span>the snark embedded in her brain scolds her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Makes sense. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie shakes her head to clear away those pesky thoughts. How rude of Dani Clayton to cloud Jamie’s good judgment before she’s even awake yet. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Does Poppins have no manners?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jamie scans over Dani’s slumbering face (and maybe her bare shoulders, </span>
  <em>
    <span>just </span>
  </em>
  <span>for a second or two) one last time before getting up. And then, biting back a sigh that would surely rouse her bedmate, Jamie leans down and uses a feather-light touch to pull Dani’s bra strap back onto her shoulder. </span>
</p><p><span>Next, she throws on a faded flannel over her concert tee (ha,</span> <span>as if she’s ever been to an actual concert that didn’t</span> <span>take place while washing dishes at work). But before she walks out, Jamie hesitates again. Her flat is surprisingly well-insulated for being in such an old building, but Jamie still gingerly tugs the comforter up over Dani’s exposed skin anyway. </span><em><span>Just in case any ghosts try to creep on her or something, </span></em><span>Jamie jokes to herself. </span><em><span>Not like she’ll have to worry about my wandering eyes, ‘cause I am getting out of here. </span></em><span>With that settled, she leaves the room.</span></p><p>
  <span>It turns out that when Dani is allowed to sleep in, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>takes advantage of it. Three hours later, she still hasn’t emerged from Jamie’s room. Jamie can’t say she isn’t enjoying her alone time, but sipping her way through four cups of coffee while watching the snow blow around outside is kind of boring, and it would be nice to be bored with someone else. But she refuses to wake her. That would be too much, too far, too soon, too </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>To kill the rest of an already waning day, Jamie decides to get some chores done. She digs out an old pair of earbuds from god-knows-where and shuffles a playlist that kicks off with Carly Rae Jepsen’s “Want You In My Room,” because when does life ever </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>have it out for her? She then starts dusting like her sanity depends on it, which hey, it kind of does, because apparently when given the option, the only other living being in this flat who isn’t a plant will sleep until two in the afternoon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that’s how Dani finds her several minutes later, carefully shifting around the plants and cleaning up stray bits of soil and dried leaves. “Good morning,” Dani yawns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s almost three o’clock, Poppins,” Jamie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani doesn’t say anything when she steps out onto the tiny covered balcony to smoke, and she still doesn’t say anything when she comes up behind Jamie with something colorful in her hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nonplussed, Jamie hits the pause button on her music and tries to peek up at her, but Dani places a hand at the nape of Jamie’s neck and all words are instantly lost. “Stay still,” Dani orders, the words bleary and nearly smothered by another yawn. Jamie sits there, stiff and fidgety (it’s out of the question for her to ever sit like a normal person, even on the floor), while Dani works to gently tie back her curls. If Jamie closes her eyes, she’ll lose that sense and put too much focus into how it feels to have both of Dani’s hands on her again, so she keeps her eyes open and focused on the floor. After a few minutes, Dani steps away with a pleased hum and wanders off to the kitchen without so much as an explanation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, what did you do?” Jamie asks. She stands and leans into the bathroom in front of the mirror. Somehow, with her magic hands (hands that have fumbled with many a tea kettle and yet, strangely, have also been inside of her), Dani tied up Jamie’s mop of curls and tucked them into a tie-dye bandana which is neatly knotted at the back. Jamie blinks at her reflection several times, then returns to the kitchen. Dani is leaning against the counter there, nursing a belated coffee between bites of Pop-Tart as if she didn’t just unravel Jamie at every last seam. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie plants her palms into the kitchen table and lifts her brows, waiting for a response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your hair was in your face,” Dani says simply, barely sparing her a glance. “I thought there was no reason for it to be in the way while you’re cleaning. I’m sorry if—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest is irrelevant, though if Jamie had better impulse control, she would have liked to hear more of Dani’s voice. Instead, she swoops around the table and kisses Dani ravenously, holding her by the waist and roughly yanking her hips into her own. Dani jumps, but her next instinct is to moan appreciatively. Jamie’s subconscious grabs onto anything her senses pick up: thick, woolen sleeves of a cardigan loosely buttoned over a slippery-strapped bra; whispers of cold cigarette smoke trapped in Dani’s mouth; Pop-Tart crumbs tumbling to the cool tile floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then something else joins the Pop-Tart crumbs on the floor, accompanied by a piercing crash. Dani and Jamie spring apart and, to Jamie’s horror, she remembers too late that she had set the violets’ container on the kitchen counter while she cleaned the other room. Now they have been victimized by Dani’s unknowing elbow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no,” Dani grimaces. “Oh, shit.” All that worry pours back into her face, and Jamie dislikes the sight of that more than the shattered plant on the floor. Dani looks back at her with wide eyes. “I am— I’m so sorry, I’ll fix it, I- I can—” In a flash, she kneels down and starts manically scooping soil into her palms, though the effort is pointless.</span>
</p><p><span>“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Jamie tells her firmly, urging her back to her feet. “It’s no big deal. They’re not dead. I can repot them.” She thinks about getting angry, but she couldn’t. Her past self would have... but not now.</span> <span>Never now.</span></p><p>
  <span>While the snow melts over the next several hours, Jamie wrestles with those evilly soft feelings. It’s so, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>hard to ignore the sweet truth when Dani kisses her and looks at her and composes new melodies with her laughs that Jamie wishes she could add to her playlist. Then to top it off, a few nights later, Jamie finds a brand new planter sitting on the counter, a pretty patterned porcelain one. A sticky note attached to it reads in hasty handwriting: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry again :( I hope the violets forgive me!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>God </span>
  <em>
    <span>damn </span>
  </em>
  <span>it, Poppins.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“Thanks again, by the way. For the new planter,” Jamie says between heavy breaths.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani freezes, her hand hovering in front of the walk-in door. They could only spare a few seconds for this session, </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe </span>
  </em>
  <span>a minute at the most, so her mind is foggy with unsatisfied </span>
  <em>
    <span>need. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Their fridge makeouts rarely leave Dani fulfilled, but rather rile her up more. Lucky for them, Dani is quite skilled at letting things build up inside her, and Jamie is just as excellent at drawing that stuff out. Dani could have the deepest exhaustion in her muscles after a long shift, and Jamie will work the tiredness right out of them. Dani could have the sharpest cold settled in her bones, and Jamie will consume it with blazing fire. In fact, right now Dani feels more hot than anything despite being surrounded by refrigerated air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She peers back over her shoulder to see what damage she’s done in such a short time frame. Jamie’s hair is askew, bun unwinding into a frayed tangle around her shoulders. Her apron is appropriately wrinkled, some of the caramel that had been smeared on Dani’s apron having transferred onto hers. Her lips are swollen; Dani watches as her tongue darts out to wet them, and it takes all her willpower not to launch herself back at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani swallows heavily and clears her throat, focusing her gaze on a box of frozen fruit above Jamie’s head in an attempt to control herself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh my god, I have officially lost it. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Yeah, well,” she forces out a casual chuckle, “expect that to be your only Christmas present.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie’s face is wiped of any discernible emotion, but then again, Dani isn’t exactly thinking </span>
  <em>
    <span>straight </span>
  </em>
  <span>at the moment. Jamie blinks a few times. “Oh,” she says, an unsteady smile tugging at her mouth. “...a’ight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or... don’t,” Dani adds quickly. She’s unable to look back at her, so she makes a rapid exit, nearly tripping over air as she tries to slam the door closed behind her in case any of their coworkers happen to be walking past. As usual, the fridge door is slow on the uptake and takes a moment to sigh shut with one last puff of cold air. Dani pushes away the thought of Jamie still standing in there, catching her breath, spine pressed into icy metal shelves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, Rebecca pops up out of nowhere. “Hey Dani, did you grab some?” Dani stands there, brain desperately trying to catch up. She was supposed to grab something. What </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>she grab? Well, technically she grabbed Jamie’s— “Earth to Dani,” Rebecca says, snapping her fingers in the other’s face. “Jeez, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Did you grab it?” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Did I grab IT?? Holy shit, she knows. How does she know? </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Or are we out of it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, right. Milk. She’s talking about— yeah. Dani knew that. Totally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, no, I- I think we’re out again,” Dani stammers, having absolutely no clue whether that’s true or not.</span>
</p><p><span>Rebecca sighs and, to Dani’s surprise, wraps an arm around her shoulders and steers her to the back door. “And you</span> <span>are definitely </span><em><span>out of it,</span></em><span> too. C’mon, it’s almost my break, and Owen and Flora can handle the line. Let’s smoke.” Dani hesitates, but then Rebecca continues, “Jamie can look for the milk, wherever she is.” Dani pretends she doesn’t see her wink.</span></p><p>
  <span>Rebecca kicks down the old beaten-up broomstick that they use to prop open the back door, and it falls with a loud </span>
  <em>
    <span>clang. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The pair throw on their coats and huddle close to the building, trying to soak up the warmth leaking out from inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani lets Rebecca light up first, then shakily holds the lighter to her own cigarette. She inhales deeply, but the heat from the smoke heavy in her lungs doesn’t compare to the warmth she had moments earlier in the fridge. “Jesus, it’s freezing,” she shudders, leaning her full weight against the brick wall. Rebecca nods in agreement, and Dani decides to reach for a small talk question on the highest possible shelf, because fuck it. “Um, how’s Peter doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s good, he’s good. Says he’s getting tired of driving for Uber but, well, he doesn’t have any better options.” Rebecca blows a billowing cloud toward the sky then changes the subject. “So, how is it living with Jamie? It’s been a couple months and you’re still sane, so I guess it can’t be that bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I wouldn’t go that far. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“It’s... fine, yeah,” Dani answers. She takes her time on her next inhale, then goes on, “I mean, we give each other space, but not as much as I thought we would, you know?” She thinks for a second, reminding herself to tread lightly lest she knock over the first domino of disaster. “But it’s nice. We’re binging a show together, so we agree on </span>
  <em>
    <span>some</span>
  </em>
  <span> things.” She perches the cig between her index and middle fingers, tilting it back and forth. “I guess what I mean to say is it’s, like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>relaxed. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I can be tired around her and it’s not awkward. She also hasn’t commented yet on my Cookie Monster pajama pants, so that’s a good sign, probably.” Dani quickly stuffs the cigarette back between her lips to plug the flow of word vomit. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why don’t you be just a little more obvious and describe the dog pattern on Jamie’s boxers, too? You are a Total. Wreck. Rein it in already.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah, sounds like you two are getting along </span>
  <em>
    <span>splendidly,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Rebecca replies, and her emphasis on the adverb isn’t missed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you two get back in here? Owen’s mustache is starting to quiver, and that’s never a good sign.” Jamie appears suddenly, leaning outside and immediately gritting her teeth. “Fuck, it’s cold.” She snatches Dani’s cigarette out of her mouth, takes a puff, then stomps it into the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” But Dani’s protest is weak and too delayed to matter. She catches Jamie’s eye, but her— </span>
  <em>
    <span>roommate, friend, lover?—</span>
  </em>
  <span> coworker has neatly rearranged her wall of anti-feelings in the past few minutes. She offers nothing but a tight-lipped grin before jerking a thumb over her shoulder. Dani nods obediently and squeezes past her back inside.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Jamie looks at Becca, who hasn’t budged and has instead watched her and Dani’s interaction with amused interest. “You too. It’s busy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I still have another five on my break,” Becca points out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie groans and fully steps outside, hunching her shoulders against the bitter chill. “Okay, so then you can help me for five minutes. It’s—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something to do with </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Poppins’?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Becca asks, mocking Jamie’s northern accent as she says the pet name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Obviously,” Jamie snaps. She strides a few paces away, then turns sharply back around. “Would you believe she had the nerve to </span>
  <em>
    <span>buy</span>
  </em>
  <span> something for me? And not only that, but then she goes on to hint that she’s gotten me </span>
  <em>
    <span>other things </span>
  </em>
  <span>for Christmas too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Becca gives her a Look. “So what I’m hearing is you </span>
  <em>
    <span>complaining</span>
  </em>
  <span> about her getting you stuff out of the goodness of her heart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie rolls her eyes. “It’s just </span>
  <em>
    <span>annoying, </span>
  </em>
  <span>is all. And now it’s like, blimey, I have to get her a fockin’ present, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Technically you don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>to—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course </span>
  </em>
  <span>I do.” Jamie pauses, shifts her weight. “I mean, I- I want to.” Her eyes dart around shiftily, then fix back on her friend. “And by the way, don’t you dare tell me Peter Almighty doesn’t get you anything. Weren’t you together last Christmas?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well...” Becca trails off and stares at her dwindling cigarette.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, great. Now I have to get you something, too.” Jamie rubs her chin furiously, throwing herself into another rapid pace before halting again. “Poppins and I aren’t even a couple and she’s gotten me stuff! This is— this is </span>
  <em>
    <span>mental, </span>
  </em>
  <span>that’s what it is! What gives her the right—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Becca lifts a silencing hand. “Well, you two are </span>
  <em>
    <span>friends, </span>
  </em>
  <span>aren’t you? And friends get each other stuff. It’s not that complicated.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie slows her pace. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Right. Not that complicated. </span>
  </em>
  <span>That’s the mentality she needs to stick to, or else she just might lose her mind. She sighs heavily, breath misting around her face. “Alright. So I’m getting her something, and it’ll be something good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which means not a gift card, and not a plant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s nothing wrong with—” Jamie stops herself and reluctantly concedes. “‘Kay, fair enough.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>It doesn’t occur to Dani until halfway through her second Owen-crafted peppermintini that she showed up to this party </span>
  <em>
    <span>with </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jamie— and, well, isn’t that kind of a big deal? She swirls the cloudy white drink in her glass, eyes following the spiraling path of candy cane shards, and tries to talk herself out of this no-good, very-bad corner. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s not like we waltzed up holding hands or leaning on each other’s shoulders or anything. And we live together. Obviously we would show up together. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dani drains her glass and reaches for another, because if she doesn’t tamp down this anxiety spike, she’ll have to retreat to Hannah’s back patio and freeze her ass off smoking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All good over here, Poppins?” Jamie appears suddenly next to her, like most people have a habit of doing around Dani. For half a second, Jamie’s hand rests on the small of Dani’s back, and her heart sings. But just as quickly, her touch is gone. It doesn’t make any sense how Jamie can kiss Dani senseless when they’re alone, and then a switch is thrown in any other situation and she’ll resist every cue Dani carefully lays out. She knows it’s pointless. They’d agreed on two major things: </span>
  <em>
    <span>just friends </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>keeping it secret. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Those shouldn’t be difficult conditions for her to understand, and yet...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep,” Dani says, nibbling at the crushed candy cane rim of her third disgustingly sweet concoction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie fixes a long, shrewd look in Dani’s direction before she wanders back over to the sofa. Owen and the Wingrave siblings’ uncle, Henry, are seated there commenting loudly on an episode of </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Great British Bake Off </span>
  </em>
  <span>like it’s a football game (not to be confused with a soccer game— </span>
  <em>
    <span>ugh, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dani gets it, she’s a Yank).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, come </span>
  <em>
    <span>on, </span>
  </em>
  <span>don’t abuse meringue powder like that!” Owen shouts, springing up from his seat and gesturing at the TV. He twists around to look at the others gathered around in the living room. “Do you all see what this moron is doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A chorus of amused </span>
  <em>
    <span>yeses </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>I knows </span>
  </em>
  <span>follows, and Dani grins but stays back, enjoying having the entire scene laid out in front of her. Hannah’s townhome is small and narrow and tastefully decorated for such a casual get-together. Fairy lights twirled with pine boughs line the staircase railing, and a grand wreath had greeted Dani and Jamie at the front door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The party itself is intimate, with the invitees limited to the Cafe Viola crew. Everyone is in attendance but Rebecca, who was supposedly roped into an obligation with Peter’s family. Even Henry is here, who Dani has only met once before. Apparently Hannah and his family go back several years, which explains the patient fondness Hannah displays for the teenagers, who are slouched on the carpet scrolling on their phones despite the hostess’s attempts to include them in the watch party.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani lingers by the table for a moment longer, choosing a brownie from the array of sweets Owen spread out on the table among fluffy fake snow and the slightest smattering of glitter. Despite Jamie’s insistence that it wasn’t necessary for this annual affair— </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I promise, Hannah doesn’t hate you, you don’t need to impress her”—</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dani brought along her own meager offering: a plate of basic snickerdoodle cookies glittering with cinnamon sugar. Those disappeared the fastest, to Owen’s barely-concealed chagrin, and as Dani approaches the living room she spots Miles devouring the last one. He peers up at her from where he is leaning against the couch next to Flora, and his smirk lasts </span>
  <em>
    <span>just </span>
  </em>
  <span>long enough to make Dani squirm before he returns his attention to his phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani joins Jamie standing behind the sofa, tugging at the hem of her soft pink sweater dress as she does. She paired that with black tights, heeled boots and subtle curls in her hair, and ended up being overdressed for the occasion despite Jamie’s warning that everyone else would be in sweaters and jeans. In all honesty, Dani has zero regrets dressing up, because the look on Jamie’s face when she stepped out of the bathroom after doing her makeup was priceless. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Worth every second of itchiness. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani wants nothing more than to snuggle with her on the unoccupied loveseat</span>
  <em>
    <span>, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and to watch this silly bake off show with Jamie’s heartbeat echoing in one ear. Instead, she gets a playful nudge from the woman beside her, and Dani returns it with an affectionate smile, knowing this is the best she’ll get here, in front of everyone else. It’s enough. Not enough for forever, maybe, but it’s enough now. That realization worries her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At long last, the peppermint schnapps and vanilla vodka have distributed through Dani’s blood. It’s not like she necessarily </span>
  <em>
    <span>needs </span>
  </em>
  <span>the liquid confidence around this group, but it’s a nice boost nonetheless. Because it’s a discreet gesture, she gives Jamie’s hand a squeeze, then slips around the couch to curl up on the loveseat and join in the riffing. “Okay, wait, so is Mary Berry her real name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani drops her jaw in hyperbolic astonishment. “But it sounds so </span>
  <em>
    <span>fake!” </span>
  </em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>After a few hours of hysterical laughing, baking-related puns, and an overconsumption of cookies, Dani briefly exiles herself to the patio. At this point she thinks she’s composed of more sugar than skin and bone. One particular exchange of eye contact with Jamie had sorely reminded her that her heart is currently pumping peppermintini instead of blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She can only stand a few minutes shivering in the frosty air with a cigarette before having to come back in and thaw. Dani hesitates by the sliding glass door for a moment, rubbing warmth back into her arms and gazing over at the boisterous group still gathered around the TV, chatting and clinking glasses. The small fireplace adjacent to them hosts a gently crackling blaze which dapples shadows over their faces. The pull is natural when Dani catches Jamie’s eye, and she isn’t sure who smiles first, but Dani ends up with aching cheeks for the millionth time that night and it feels wonderful. Maybe, just maybe, she has found a new family at Cafe Viola. It’s both the least expected and most welcome thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But someone is missing from the picture. Dani frowns and starts walking back through the kitchen only to run into Flora, who is coming from a back hallway. Her eyes are rimmed red and her striped sweater is dejectedly rumpled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything okay?” Dani asks softly, aiming to keep the conversation out of earshot of the others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Flora sniffs. “But it will be, I suppose.” At Dani’s pressing stare, she sighs and goes on, “I noticed the painting of the house was gone from the wall at the cafe. I checked, and sure enough Hannah has it here, because it sold and the person is coming to pick it up tomorrow.” She rubs her nose and looks down. “I’m glad it’ll make someone else happy, but it— it was my favorite.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani chews her lip, picking through her tipsy jungle of a brain to find a suitable reassurance. “Well, maybe that means we can have the same favorite now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flora gives a flat, humorless huff. “I don’t care much for the lake one, Dani. Nobody does, except for you.” She meets Dani’s gaze. “I can’t help being upset, really. The paintings, they—” Her voice cuts off, then she seems to force herself through the rest of the sentence: “— they were my mum’s. I know selling them helps the cafe, and I know Miles and I told Hannah it was fine, but... they were </span>
  <em>
    <span>hers </span>
  </em>
  <span>first, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charlotte,” Dani murmurs without thinking. “She...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s passed away,” Flora confirms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani’s heart deflates. “I’m so sorry, Flora.” She hesitates. “I... I know what it’s like to lose a parent young.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I lost both, actually. They’ve been gone for ten years, but sometimes... it’s like no time has passed at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I know the feeling. Everything and nothing is the same afterward. You still wake up, walk, eat, and sleep, but you do it a little differently than you used to. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dani sighs, feeling the prod of old instincts from when she would console upset students. For a few seconds, she registers a strong, aching longing for her old job, to teach again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miles and Uncle Henry... they get it, but they also don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel it, </span>
  </em>
  <span>their grief that is, in the same way I do,” Flora explains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone feels things differently,” Dani replies. “But just because you’re not on the same page doesn’t mean you’re not reading from the same book.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her coworker is quiet for a long moment; then she sniffs again and mumbles, “Is it alright if I hug you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>alright,” Dani laughs through the light sheen of tears in her eyes. When she opens her arms, Flora steps into them. The tension in her posture instantly melts away in the embrace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh, you smell good.” Flora’s typical blunt whimsy is muffled by Dani’s chest, but it draws out another laugh nonetheless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Across the room, Dani notices Jamie watching them. God, Dani would stare into those eyes for hours if she could find the nerve. Jamie’s lips form a trademark smirk, then she glances back at the TV.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flora pulls back and clearly tries her best to regain some composure. A cheerful blush has returned to her cheeks as she says, “I’ve been hesitant to say this, Dani, but I’m jealous of the way you braid your hair sometimes. Do you think you could show me, maybe—?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just give me a hair tie, and I’ll get to work.” Flora brightens even more, and Dani beams, accepting the glittery green elastic Flora plucks off of her wrist. They return to the others, Dani scooting in at the end of the sofa with Flora sitting on the floor in front of her. She divides Flora’s hair into sections, and while she weaves them together, Dani has a snowball fight of glances with Jamie all through the rest of the night. She can’t (won’t? shouldn’t?) admit it, but those eyes keep her warmer than the nearby fireplace.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Their flat is dark and quiet compared to where they just came from, but Jamie appreciates the peace and privacy. Dani enters just behind her, breaths soft and cheeks ruddy from all the sugary rubbish she drank that Owen insisted was alcohol. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without a word, Jamie flips on the living room light and watches Dani shuffle off to her room. Jamie’s stomach teeters uneasily. She wonders if the silence between them during the walk home from Hannah’s rubbed Dani the wrong way. The tension had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost </span>
  </em>
  <span>suffocating, but Jamie could live with it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Even though she can’t stop thinking about earlier: sitting on the sofa eating sweets, tuning out Owen’s criticisms of bakers who couldn’t hear him, and most importantly, watching Dani nimbly braid Flora’s hair. It made Jamie think of Dani doing the same to </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>hair, and then thinking about </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>reminded her how strikingly, unfairly gorgeous Dani was— always was— and how she accentuated that tonight. Her </span>
  <em>
    <span>dress,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and that </span>
  <em>
    <span>eyeshadow,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and the blonde waves that Jamie wanted to lap at her skin. And as if that wasn’t enough, she had to go and give Flora a hug and a Poppins pep talk, too. Another reminder that Dani is too good for her. Damn it. Okay, maybe Jamie’s not managing quite as well as she thought.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have no idea how hard it was.” Dani’s voice floats to her from down the hall, and Jamie perks up, grateful that her flatmate stomped on the silence first. But her mind is spinning trying to understand what exactly Dani could be referring to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie peeks over at the half-open door to Dani’s bedroom. “Yeah?” she calls, curious whether there’s even anything to be waiting for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After another restless minute, Dani emerges, a nervous giggle tickling the edges of her mouth. She’s dressed down ever so slightly, shoes and earrings gone. A small wrapped package sits in her hands, topped with a wired ribbon bow. “It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>hard not giving this to you early,” she finally explains. “But I forced myself to wait.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Jamie says, quickly catching herself when she notices Dani’s face start to fall in misunderstanding. “N- no, I mean, </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh! </span>
  </em>
  <span>This is— you didn’t have to, you know.” She can’t resist spitting out a teasing remark from her own anxiety. “And it </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>still early. Christmas isn’t until tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani’s laugh is more audacious this time. “Oops.” She shrugs and offers the gift to her. “Well... do you wanna open it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie drinks in the sight in front of her, wishing she could steal a kiss without it potentially ruining the moment. Because more often than not, kissing leads to sex. It was what they agreed upon, after all. Don’t get Jamie wrong, the sex is incredible, but she doesn’t always want kissing to lead to that. She wants the small kisses, the little</span>
  <em>
    <span> just because </span>
  </em>
  <span>pecks</span>
  <em>
    <span>, </span>
  </em>
  <span>because Dani doesn’t have to bring Jamie to climax to blow her mind. With her train of thought completely derailed miles past the border into dangerous territory— </span>
  <em>
    <span>Christ, where did all that come from?—</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jamie silently accepts the gift. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani’s eyes, glazed by tipsy merriment, stay glued on Jamie as she peels away the plaid-patterned wrapping paper— how appropriate for Jamie the flannel-wearer. (In fact, the color scheme on the paper isn’t far off from that of the shirt she’s wearing right now; figures.) Before she tears away the paper, she picks off the bow from it and reaches over to stick it on Dani’s head. In response, Dani makes a faint hum of amusement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie lets the paper fall to the floor, uncovering a petite box. She slides her fingers under the lid and tugs it off. This reveals a few layers of tissue paper. Jamie bites back a snort. Whatever this is, it’s really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>buried. Probably took her an hour alone to wrap it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What a nesting doll of a present, Poppins. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She swats away the tissue and, at last, the main attraction appears: a packet of seeds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie blinks, hesitating to express anything just yet. She pulls out the packet and turns it over. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tropical white morning-glory. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Moonflower seeds. Only one word comes to the forefront of her mind: </span>
  <em>
    <span>How? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly Dani’s fingers close around Jamie’s wrist, and she’s brought over to the sliding glass door that opens onto the pitifully tiny balcony. “Aaaand here’s part two of your gift,” Dani says, indicating the door. Still unable to reel in her mind, let alone wrap it around part one of her gift, Jamie pushes open the door and looks out onto the icicle-crusted balcony. Leaning against the railing is a magnificent metal trellis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bloody hell,” Jamie mumbles in awe. Eagerly she picks up the structure and brings it back inside to admire it in better lighting. “How’d you manage to sneak this thing past me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani rocks on her heels, playing with a curl of hair. “Oh, that was easy. I just timed it for when I knew you would be playing </span>
  <em>
    <span>Animal Crossing </span>
  </em>
  <span>with your earbuds in.” Again she shifts her weight, eyes wide as she takes in Jamie’s reaction. “So, um, do you like it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Like </span>
  </em>
  <span>it? I...” Jamie swallows and shakes her head. “I love it. But how—”</span>
</p><p><span>Dani is all too ready with her explanation, which must’ve been perched on the tip of her tongue for the past ten minutes now. “I happened to overhear you talking to Rebecca at work, saying you wanted to try growing moonflowers again. That </span><em><span>sprouted </span></em><span>an idea in my mind”— she pauses to allow an unimpressed groan from her companion— “so I put a little research into it, and bought that, uh, trellis thingy since moonflowers are a climbing vine. Then I talked to our landlord, and he said you can use that little grassy patch next to the building, since we’re, like, kind of in the middle of a city. And I know you already have a whole beautiful garden inside here, but I thought maybe when it’s warm, it could be a fun project for you to tackle because, well... you seem to like a good challenge.” Dani looks down and takes a deep breath. “It’s just... another thank you for letting me live here. You didn’t have to do that.” </span><em><span>But I wanted to. </span></em><span>“I hope this can forgive my American quirks even a little</span> <span>bit. Don’t worry, I won’t be here forever.” </span><em><span>But I need you here— wait, what? </span></em></p><p>
  <span>No. Jamie has this all wrong. Their relationship— no, it isn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It’s an </span>
  <em>
    <span>agreement, </span>
  </em>
  <span>a beneficial arrangement, an unhealthy method to release those pent-up emotions without </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually </span>
  </em>
  <span>releasing them. They make each other feel good, and if Dani happens to make Jamie feel good in warm and fuzzy ways too, then that’s nobody’s business but hers. </span>
</p><p><span>Yeah, they’re just friends. Dani sees her as a </span><em><span>friend.</span></em><span> And when Dani looks at Jamie like </span><em><span>that, </span></em><span>it’s lust and nothing more. That’s it. At least Jamie can call Poppins a friend</span> <span>now, more than just a coworker and a flatmate. She shouldn’t take that for granted. She can’t dismantle all they have built up. </span></p><p>
  <span>Jamie looks down at the seed packet in her hand. It’ll be difficult to grow a plant that prefers a tropical climate here in London. But Jamie knows she would be missing out if she doesn’t try. She thinks of the last time she tried to grow these at her ill-fated business. They never wanted to bloom, as if they knew no customers would ever come to purchase them anyway. When she was a little younger, Jamie had a bad habit of raising plants in the mindset that they paralleled her various relationships. She would secretly name plants after her girlfriends, then fall harder for them when the plant bloomed, and consider breaking up if the plant wilted. She won’t do that this time around. This challenge will be her own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Jamie finally says. “Really. Thank you.” Dani exhales in relief, settling into her smile at last. Jamie grins back. She might’ve known Dani for six months, or for all her life. She couldn’t be sure which.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then it occurs to her that she has something to give in return. “Hang on just a second,” she says, then darts off to her room. She finds the present she’d gotten for Dani under her bed (ironically, the best hiding place she could find for it was the very spot Dani tended to spend a lot of time in) and returns to the living room, where Dani has gotten comfortable on the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here,” Jamie says, suddenly shy when she places the present on Dani’s lap. She’s total shite at wrapping stuff, so Dani has the simple task of nudging aside tissue paper and lifting the item out of a three-quid Marks &amp; Spencer gift bag. And she does exactly that while Jamie watches intently, bouncing her leg.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani examines the elaborately-detailed photo frame. Before she can get a word in, Jamie rushes to explain. “I, ah, I happened to notice that you don’t have any pictures framed in your room. I know people don’t really do that as much anymore, but... I always thought it was something everyone took for granted, ya know?” Dani’s eyes move over to her, and she shakily continues. “I mean, the fact that people </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>things that are worth framing, or have a loved one </span>
  <em>
    <span>at all </span>
  </em>
  <span>to frame and put on their nightstand or wall... I was always jealous of it.” She leans back against the sofa pillows, crossing her arms and chuckling darkly. “Anyway... I want you to frame whatever your heart desires, Poppins. And I want you to be able to look at it every day, because... I- I guess I hope you have someone, or something, worth putting in there,” she says, gesturing at the frame. “Or, if you don’t... I hope you find them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To her utter shock— or perhaps not— Dani scoots forward and engulfs Jamie in a hug. A short and sweet </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Thank you” </span>
  </em>
  <span>is mumbled into her shoulder, and Jamie thinks it just might be worth it that they’re the queens of overthinking and oversharing. If she’s learned anything tonight, it’s that overthinkers get the best gifts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie can’t deny the strangeness of hugging Dani, though. Being this close to her with the most heartfelt and innocent intentions is refreshing. Jamie craves more of it, so naturally that means she has to end it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pulling back prematurely, Jamie chuckles and rubs her hands over her thighs. “I ought to be careful, or else too much of your American essence might rub off on me.” Trying to soothe her fluttering heart, she pushes on with the joke that would’ve been funnier months ago, back when Poppins was just the new girl and Jamie wasn’t swaying on the precipice of falling for her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“That would, like, totally suck, bro,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she says, adopting a poor accent that sounds like a fifteen-year-old boy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, right, of course,” Dani giggles. “But I can’t figure out if that accent is supposed to be Californian or southern.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please shut up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie is about to go retreat to a warm shower when Dani says, “Wait.” She turns back around and, in a moment of hilarity, realizes the bow is still stuck on Dani’s head. She goes to reach for it, but instead she’s thrown for a loop when Dani spins around and asks softly, “Can you unzip me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie freezes, briefly wondering if Poppins had a hell of a time zipping up hours earlier because she was too scared to ask Jamie to do it for her. Then again, Jamie has made it abundantly clear that her skill set lies more in taking clothes </span>
  <em>
    <span>off.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She knows this particular request doesn’t actually mean anything. Despite that, she can’t help the playful </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Blimey”</span>
  </em>
  <span> that escapes her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani laughs again, and Jamie has never before been so aware of her heartbeat. She brushes away hair at the nape of Dani’s neck, then tugs down the zipper on the back of her dress.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“It was nice of you to cover Flora’s shift.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I guess I didn’t have anywhere better to be,” Dani says teasingly, stacking empty muffin trays onto a shelf. “And how could I </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>let the sixteen-year-old go get drunk at a New Year’s party? It’s what she deserves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cafe Viola was relatively quiet tonight; most potential customers passed on coffee this evening in favor of drinking champagne and wearing ridiculous prop glasses that stopped making sense after 2009. So for hours on end, it has been just the two of them, which is a situation the Dani from this past summer would have dreaded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After flipping off the open sign, Jamie returns behind the counter where Dani is gathering up a collection of dirty blenders. She unties her apron, whips it over her shoulder, and brushes past Dani with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>obvious, “I’m gonna go grab some milk, ‘ight?”</span>
</p><p><em><span>“Oh,” </span></em><span>Dani gasps, all breath rushing out of her body along with any lingering cognitive function. (But, to be honest, Dani is relying more on heart cells than brain cells at this point, anyway.) Never mind that they’re alone</span> <span>and there’s no need for the code phrase— hearing it still strikes a lighting bolt of thrill into her spine.</span></p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, along with the air in her lungs and any coherent thoughts, Dani loses her grasp on all the blenders. All at once, they topple to the brown industrial tiles, dousing both them and the floor in hours-old remnants of frappe, smoothie, and whatever other coffee drinks had been prepared that day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes a second for reality (and the icky mixture of liquids) to sink in, but once they do, all Dani can muster is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Shit” </span>
  </em>
  <span>through gritted teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Two left feet </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>two left hands, it seems,” Jamie hums, apparently unfazed by the small-scale disaster that just splattered everywhere. Dani shoots her a “</span>
  <em>
    <span>This is kind of your fault too” </span>
  </em>
  <span>look, and receives a stuck-out tongue in return. Seeing Jamie flex that particular talented muscle does unmentionable things to Dani, and she quickly forgets her annoyance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I... uh, I guess I should clean that up—” A hand clamps down on Dani’s arm, urging her to hop over the mess and enter the bathroom instead. The restroom at Cafe Viola is cramped, still painted a gross orange from whoever owned the space before Hannah. An overpowering cinnamon air freshener is plugged into a crusty outlet, and the smudges on the small mirror above the sink seem to be etched in permanently. Chances are if her urge to smoke during panic attacks wasn’t so strong, this would have been Dani’s frequent cool-down spot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both of them reach simultaneously for the paper towels, but Jamie’s hands clearly have different plans and Dani’s hands soon change course to follow their lead. Jamie slams her to the wall, her lips acting as tools of destruction as she skims them over Dani’s collarbone, then buries them in the sensitive hollow above her sternum. Pleasantly overwhelmed, Dani tries to stay aware enough to reciprocate. She slides cautious fingers under Jamie’s shirt and is met by the welcome discovery that she isn’t wearing a bra today.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie shudders, and Dani winces, knowing her hands must be cold. But to her shock, Jamie doesn’t pull away. Instead she mumbles against the skin on Dani’s chest, where one of her hands still has the collar of Dani’s shirt bunched up out of the way. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Mmm, </span>
  </em>
  <span>so this was your plan all along, wasn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani simply stares down at her, chest rising and falling rapidly against Jamie’s cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get me all </span>
  <em>
    <span>dirty, </span>
  </em>
  <span>so I have </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span> choice but to come in here and wash up with you, leaving us </span>
  <em>
    <span>alone </span>
  </em>
  <span>together,” Jamie elaborates, dragging away Dani’s shirt even more to drop another sprinkling of languid kisses. Dani grins, amused by the baselessness of Jamie’s so-called accusation and the exaggerated tone she delivered it with. She laughs airily as Jamie adds with a groan, “Poppins, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>flirt.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>They take their sweet time closing up shop, blasting all the sugary throwback songs they can think of. Dani takes turns dancing with the mop and with Jamie. Dani doesn’t want to dwell on what it means to be so obnoxiously giddy and handsy with Jamie while sober, but she also kind of </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> want to dwell on it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she thinks for the second time that night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A while later, they finally lock the doors and step out into London’s frosty clutches. A light rain falls, misting cars and windows and making the traffic lights bleed into the street. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani jerks her head a little as they turn the corner onto a new block. “Ugh, I think I still have some of that shit in my ear,” she giggles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What a way to end the year, with strawberry smoothie in your ear,” Jamie intones. She cringes at herself. “Can’t believe I just spoke a rhyme. Half-expecting the corny police to show up any second.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, but actually... ending the year with </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>is the last thing I expected,” Dani says. “I mean, no offense, but it’s kind of funny.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Funny that “scary shift lead” is now the last label I think of when I think about you. Funny that we’re walking home to the same place. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Home is the same place.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Home is where Dani kills the spiders (well, she says she does, but she actually sets them free out on the balcony when Jamie isn’t looking) and home is where Jamie brings home </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Times </span>
  </em>
  <span>some days because she was under the impression that horoscopes could only be read in the newspaper (to which Dani giggled and said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You know I can just google it, right?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>And if someone happened to check Dani’s search history and see that she looked up compatibility between two </span>
  <em>
    <span>particular </span>
  </em>
  <span>signs, that’s nobody’s business but her own).</span>
</p><p><span>She wants to say all of that to her, but words are clearer inside Dani’s mind than outside</span> <span>of it. She feels better when Jamie smirks thoughtfully and replies, “It </span><em><span>is </span></em><span>funny. All I wanted to do was avoid you, Poppins, but I failed </span><em><span>spectacularly </span></em><span>at it. And I dare say, it might be my least shitty failure yet. So, cheers to us.” Jamie raises an invisible glass to her, which Dani turns into a tentative fist bump, and they both dissolve into laughter again. “You’re the worst, you know that?” Jamie asks.</span></p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Dani grins, “I know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At this time one year ago, Dani was still a fresh expat, sitting cross-legged on her bed in that awful apartment, alone and jobless with only one foot out of the closet. She remembers staring at that cracked ceiling, and the almost empty bottle of wine on the floor which she accidentally knocked over when the clock struck midnight. She remembers thinking, </span>
  <em>
    <span>What the fuck am I doing here? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Now, she thinks she might know. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani and Jamie look down at her phone, and on a screen speckled with rain, they watch the year change. Jamie glances over at her, mutters, “Might as well, right?” and kisses her. And with that, Dani comes up with a new question: </span>
  <em>
    <span>What the fuck are we doing? </span>
  </em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Halfway through January, Jamie wakes up to one of her least favorite notifications: Instagram saying she was tagged in something. She truly does hate most of the apps on this stupid device— except for Spotify.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grumbling, she swipes on it and surveys the damage to her dignity. Just as she feared, Rebecca posted a few pictures from last night’s get-together at the pub downstairs. Nothing vulgar, luckily: there’s a selfie of her, Becca, and Dani in their booth; a somewhat blurry candid shot of Dani laughing; and a picture of Jamie .1 seconds away from raising her middle finger. Jamie rolls her eyes and drops a like, then scans over the comments. Only the usual suspects lurk there: Peter being an ass, Flora saying </span>
  <em>
    <span>“you’re all so cute!! xo”... </span>
  </em>
  <span>aaaand a wink emoji from Dani. Whatever that means.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Jamie trudges out of her room, she can’t believe what her eyes show her. Dani is already wide awake </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> dressed before 5:30. If either of them trusted her to make coffee, there would probably be some of that prepared, too. But not only is she awake— Dani is also watering the plants and talking on the phone to someone with hushed, almost strained words. Jamie approaches slowly, admiring Dani’s precision with measuring out how much water is given to each plant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She can’t help overhearing Dani’s conversation, however, while she’s in the kitchen getting coffee ready. Dani speaks quickly and quietly, her accent more prominent now than Jamie has ever heard it before. Her hunched shoulders and constant raking of one hand through her hair only add to Jamie’s unease.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... isn’t it, like, eleven there? Why— yeah, I know. I- I am.” A long pause. “Uh, yeah, she’s doing good. Thanks... oh, you saw that? ... uh-huh... how long? Oh, um, not that long. Like, three months. Four. Four months, yeah.” A tense laugh crawls its way out of her, striking in its insincerity. Jamie frowns, keeping her movements light and quiet as Dani finishes the conversation. “Haha, well, what can I say? She... she swept me off my feet,” she says, waving her arm exaggeratedly as if the person on the other end can see her. “What? Oh, um... I don’t think it’s too soon. I mean, we like each other a lot, so— no, I like living with her. It’s not— it’s not, like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>weird </span>
  </em>
  <span>or anything.” Dani blows a sarcasm-tinged raspberry, and at that moment she finally turns around and spots Jamie in the kitchen. Her eyes become twin moons. “Hey, it was... yeah. It was good talking to you. I mean, I- I’m kinda surprised you called, but— thank you. Yeah, I gotta go. Bye, Eddie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The name hits Jamie like a bag of frozen muffins to the face (yes, that did actually happen once, and yes, Owen was very apologetic).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani says nothing as she tucks her phone back into her pocket and tiptoes like a bird into the kitchen. She accepts the coffee Jamie offers her, mumbling a </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Thanks” </span>
  </em>
  <span>around the rim of the mug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” Jamie says, clearing her throat. “How’s the ex doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani winces. “You... heard that, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie snorts. “If I </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>hear that, I think you should be concerned about my ears.” She takes a prolonged sip, observing Dani’s fidgety silence. “Is everything alright back home?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not—” Dani catches herself, then proceeds with it anyway. “— home, really, anymore. But yeah, everything’s okay. He just, um, called me out of the blue.” She does the hair-raking thing again and takes a gulp of coffee that definitely scalds the roof of her mouth. “I- I don’t know why. I thought he seemed happy, so it’s like, why talk to me now? I guess he was just curious about—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani hesitates. “Well... he </span>
  <em>
    <span>might </span>
  </em>
  <span>have seen the post Rebecca tagged us in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie knows that isn’t a question. She thinks back over the finer details of the photos Becca posted: the selfie, in which she and Dani are </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>sitting closer together than normal on their side of the booth; the laughing Dani picture, where Jamie’s face is in the background, her nose also scrunched up in laughter; and the flipping off picture, which features Dani reaching to steal a chip off Jamie’s plate, her other hand resting on Jamie’s shoulder. “So, according to you </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>him, we’re dating?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani looks like the human version of the scared hamster meme. “I’m— I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>sorry. I guess when he saw those pictures— and then I mentioned we live together— he just assumed I must be dating this girl if I’m living with her.” Dani looks down sheepishly. “Because ‘I’m a lesbian now.’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie sets down her mug heavily on the counter. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Dani startles, eyes leaping back upward. “You’re not ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>a lesbian now,’” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jamie scoffs, using air quotes to mock the phrase. “That’s not how it works.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>been gay, Poppins.” Jamie gives another clipped laugh, turning away to dump the rest of her coffee down the drain. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“‘A lesbian now.’</span>
  </em>
  <span> Bloody hell.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani follows suit, chugging down half her cup before dropping it in the sink. “Okay, but I didn’t— I </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t—”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s no matter now,” Jamie interrupts. She marches to the door and shrugs on her coat, hardly waiting up for Dani as she hurries out of the flat and down the hall. Dani, apparently incapable of jogging like a normal person, does her frantic speed-walk to keep up with her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani has only just managed to get her coat on by the time they’ve bustled down the stairs and emerged outside. “Jamie, please, hold on.” She forgets to step over the patch of black ice at the corner of their block, and when she skids, Jamie catches and rights her without a blink. “Jamie, I’m sorry I told him that we’re... you know... </span>
  <em>
    <span>dating,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she pants, mumbling the last word like it’s Voldemort’s name. “I know that we’re not actually... anything </span>
  <em>
    <span>more </span>
  </em>
  <span>than friends. I just panicked. Talking to him again for the first time in over a year... it freaked me out.” Dani reaches out a hand to touch Jamie’s arm, and she stiffens, finally coming to a halt after three blocks of brisk walking. Dani meets her eyes sincerely, and Jamie can’t stay mad at her. “I’m sorry I lied about us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie looks at her reddened cheeks and windblown hair and dammit, she has no right to be this cute. “It’s fine,” she replies, rubbing her nose and staring down the street. She thinks over what she’ll say next for a long moment, then takes the plunge. “We can keep up the act, if it’ll make you feel better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani balks. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just from afar, y’know. It’ll be easy to maintain the ruse from across the ocean.” Jamie smirks. She can’t believe the words coming out of her mouth, but she doesn’t stop them, either. “It isn’t like we’re not already sleeping together, anyway. If you wanna make the ex jealous... I’m in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani is quiet for a minute, chewing her cheek as she considers. “Fine,” she says. “We can let him think that. But—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“— only him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani raises her little finger, and Jamie links her pinkie with hers. “Alright, then. Can’t let him think you’ve gone straight,” Jamie teases, and Dani gives her a shove.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Later that day, when Jamie steals a drag from Becca’s cigarette while leaning out the back door of Cafe Viola, she recounts her and Dani’s plan to her friend. Leaving out that </span>
  <em>
    <span>one </span>
  </em>
  <span>detail, of course.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Becca pierces her with a dubious look. “You’re kidding me, right? You two are basically dating already.” She snatches her cig back and shakes her head. “Clueless fools.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice try, but no, we’re actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>not. </span>
  </em>
  <span>We’d be terrible together,” Jamie retorts. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wanna talk about who else is terrible together? You and Quint, the wanker who called me Ellen DeGeneres for a month straight.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever you say,” Becca bites back. Jamie pinches her brow and goes back inside.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Jamie’s birthday falls on a blustery day in early February which turns into a blizzard come nightfall. Thanks to the weather, the “celebration” consists of just her and Dani in the boring little pub under their flat. Apparently Jamie doesn’t mind it all that much— the fact that there’s any kind of celebration at all means it’s already more than she wanted. So Dani’s pre-arranged, decidedly low-key plans become more and more diluted with each passing hour as the storm surges outside, until it’s only the two of them still involved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The place is pretty cleared out considering the weather, and Dani and Jamie are the only ones seated at the bar. “A year closer to thirty. Isn’t that terrifying?” Dani says flatly, lifting her beer glass to her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll laugh in the face of anyone who actually thinks I’m thrilled to turn 28.” Then Jamie squints at her. “What’s this? Can you not hold a pint normally?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm?” Dani looks at the odd placement of her wrist in relation to the glass, then looks at Jamie with a shit-eating grin. “Oh, I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>dreadfully</span>
  </em>
  <span> sorry for not being a proper Brit,” she says in a very poor English accent. Jamie face-palms but doesn’t bother hiding her smirk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, Dani’s phone chirps, and both pairs of eyes land on it. Eddie, who’s name at one point had a yellow heart emoji next to it in Dani’s phone, is once again making an appearance on her screen. Dani sees Jamie’s arm tense up where it’s resting on the bar near her. Dani picks up her phone and swipes to his message.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hey, Danielle. I heard about the monster blizzard happening in London. Hope you and your girl friend are safe.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh-ho-ho,” Jamie roars. “Talk about </span>
  <em>
    <span>petty.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Before Dani can blink twice at the text, her phone is plucked out of her hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” Dani asks, puzzled. “He’s just making sure I’m okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie snorts, turning the screen back toward her and jabbing a finger at the offending gray bubble. “Do you see that wee space between ‘girl’ and ‘friend’? He doesn’t even want to admit I’m your partner. Well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fake </span>
  </em>
  <span>partner, that is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s probably just a typo,” Dani says, rolling her eyes. Suddenly Jamie’s fingers are a blur over the keyboard, and Dani’s heart goes </span>
  <em>
    <span>splat </span>
  </em>
  <span>onto the bar. She reaches over and snatches her phone back. “Okay, he is definitely </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>gonna hear from drunk Jamie, </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> for sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Jamie pouts. “But I reckon I’m right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani lifts a calculating brow at her. “Is Jamie Taylor actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>jealous?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hell no! But if Edmund was in this pub with us right now”— Jamie scoots her stool closer to Dani’s— “I would do </span>
  <em>
    <span>this.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She cups Dani’s face in her hands and pulls her into a hungry kiss. Dani falls under her spell immediately upon contact, and returns it with matched vigor until Jamie backs away. “But </span>
  <em>
    <span>only </span>
  </em>
  <span>if he were here, of course,” Jamie repeats, licking her lips and marking up Dani’s neck with her eyes before she turns back to her drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani gulps and also tries to focus on her beer again. But fuck, she can’t. Her chest is a fireplace, and a few too many sparks have escaped it. “Maybe it doesn’t have to be fake,” she blurts out. Right away she covers her mouth, but it’s impossible to take that back. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, no. What have you done?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie frowns at her. “You’re kidding, right?” Dani can’t respond. “Oh, wow.” She drums the bar with agitated fingers. “Listen, I- I’m not someone you’re supposed to fall for.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Too late for that.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani stares into her drink. “Why not?” she mumbles.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Because!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jamie sputters. “Because... this is just about </span>
  <em>
    <span>sex, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dani. We can coexist together because of the sex. Otherwise we might’ve killed each other by now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hearing her real name spoken that way on Jamie’s lips is like being dunked into an ice bath. “You never bothered me after that first day,” Dani admits. “I— I </span>
  <em>
    <span>like </span>
  </em>
  <span>you, Jamie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Obviously you ‘like’ me, you barely lasted a week in my place before you jumped me!” Jamie exclaims.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay. If Jamie really wants, Dani will </span>
  <em>
    <span>gladly </span>
  </em>
  <span>engage in a duel of words. “Do you even know how a relationship works? Because I think it’s become obvious to everyone </span>
  <em>
    <span>except </span>
  </em>
  <span>us that we’re in one!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As if </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> know how one works? You spent your </span>
  <em>
    <span>entire</span>
  </em>
  <span> life with—” Fortunately, Jamie severs that thought. “Please, enlighten me. Tell me how a real relationship works.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hot tears sting Dani’s eyes. “I guess I wouldn’t know. I’ve spent months crushing on you— god, I thought that would feel good to say out loud. And you kept </span>
  <em>
    <span>pushing</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>pushing</span>
  </em>
  <span> me away, but still keeping me within arm’s reach. And no matter what, I couldn’t get you out of my head. I could’ve tried to like </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span> else, but no, my brain was like, ‘I pick this one!’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t ask to catch feelings,” Jamie mutters, then quickly corrects herself, “I didn’t ask </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>to catch feelings.” But Dani doesn’t miss what she said first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess I... I thought you might feel the same way,” Dani says slowly. “I know the last thing we wanted was— was complicated, but it </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>complicated. It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>fucking complicated and I’m sorry we’re not on the same page.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie fists a hand in her hair, letting out a shaky exhale. “Or maybe we are. Maybe that’s the problem. But it’s just that— I mean, we’re such different people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But isn’t that what would make it so exciting?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie gives a dull laugh. “There’s nothing wrong with boring, either,” she mumbles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A fit of blind desperation urges Dani to cover one of Jamie’s hands with her own, and Jamie doesn’t move away. “Fine, then,” she says. “Give me boring! I’ll take all the boring in the world if it’s with—” She catches herself just in time, but when Jamie glances over at her, two pairs of teary eyes meet on the same word: </span>
  <em>
    <span>— you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>By some miracle, their little show hasn’t attracted much attention from the few other patrons scattered throughout the pub. Least of all the bartender, who intrudes on their conversation with a perfunctory greeting: “I hear it’s someone’s birthday.” Seemingly out of thin air appears an oversized cupcake with a single lit candle stuck into it. Dani remembers sneaking the order when they first came in; it was only a few hours ago, but it may as well have been a million years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani and Jamie stare blankly at the dessert. Still not picking up on their behavior, the bartender sighs and nudges the plate closer to Jamie. “Oi, just blow it out already, will ya? Don’t have all night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie’s movements are robotic as she leans down and extinguishes the candle with a limp breath. “Thanks, Hugh,” she mutters, dropping down off her stool. “But I’m, um, not in a cupcake mood. Another night, maybe.” Her gaze briefly shifts to Dani, but it feels like she’s looking through her rather than at her. “Another time, maybe.” She drops a few notes on the counter, then makes her way to the stairs in the back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani is so numb she can’t even feel the stool underneath her. Only an awkward </span>
  <em>
    <span>ahem </span>
  </em>
  <span>from Hugh the bartender brings her back to semi-consciousness. “Oh, um, sorry.” She looks at the surprise cupcake but doesn’t reach for it. “Thank you,” she adds lamely, choosing not to comment that it was a couple hours late. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Too late. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Hugh gestures at the plate. “Well, she isn’t expecting us to share it, is she?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a different world, Dani would’ve offered a stiff laugh at the bare minimum, but she can’t even manage that. She gives a subtle head shake, and finally he reads the signal of dismissal correctly and walks away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sits there for another hour, nursing her beer and watching the icing gradually melt under the heat of the bar’s lights. She almost convinces herself to pick up the cupcake and retrieve the cheesy little message she’d instructed them to hide in the bottom of the wrapper. It had taken her several days to think about what it would say, and how to format it. She’d ended up printing it out in the style of a fortune cookie message. Dani guesses that this is an example of how not all fortunes come true. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She also tries to convince herself that none of those feelings went to waste. That this was a lesson learned. She fails to do that, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that in mind, she stands up, and realizing she has nowhere else to go but the same place, she walks over to the staircase.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The next day, Dani calls in sick to work. Jamie, despite feeling quite sick as well, knows she can’t do the same. Owen comes in to cover for Dani, but Jamie doesn’t even spare him a grunt when he greets her a few hours into her shift. Flora and Becca also keep exchanging worried glances that get under Jamie’s skin. Flora’s belated happy birthday wishes are met with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Yep,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>and Becca’s gift of a custom lighter (personalized with the selfie of the three of them from last month, because of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course </span>
  </em>
  <span>it is) gets an equally lukewarm response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not until they’re closing when Becca and Flora back her into a corner, literally. Jamie pops out one earbud and holds the mop handle like a defense weapon. “Leave me alone,” she warns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re mopping instead of washing the dishes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Something’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>wrong. And we’re not leaving you alone until you tell us what we already know,” Flora says matter-of-factly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie glares at them. “Why do you need to be told something you already know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>need to acknowledge it.” Becca crosses her arms and tilts her head, and Jamie realizes they’re not budging. When she doesn’t respond right away, Becca pushes, “Do you need a hint? Here: it starts with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dani </span>
  </em>
  <span>and ends with </span>
  <em>
    <span>commitment issues.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, Jesus Christ,” Jamie hisses, dropping the mop back into its bucket with a giant splash. “Poppins and I had a row last night. Happy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” Becca demands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie sighs. “Because...” </span>
  <em>
    <span>She likes me too much. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“... I like her.” Pause. “A lot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And?” Flora prompts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I’m— I’m scared shitless because I’ve never felt this way about anyone, a- and I never expected it would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>her, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and— despite everything I tried, I hurt her anyway.” Jamie claws a hand through her hair and leans back against the wall, her voice small when she asks, “How long have you lot known about us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s stunned when Becca has the nerve to guffaw at her. “Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>come on. </span>
  </em>
  <span>‘I’m gonna grab milk from the walk-in’? That was </span>
  <em>
    <span>weak. </span>
  </em>
  <span>You two didn’t need a code phrase, we all knew what you were doing. Who takes five minutes to grab milk?” Jamie opens her mouth, but Becca apparently isn’t done yet. “Not to mention I’m familiar with the flushed face of someone who just had their mouth sucked off. It’s obvious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And there was all the eye fucking,” Flora supplies.</span>
</p><p><span>“Flora!”</span> <span>Jamie and Becca snap.</span></p><p>
  <span>Flora shrugs. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway,” Becca redirects, “you need to talk to her again, love. Say everything you told us—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“— and more,” Flora says. “More would be splendid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie groans. “I hate you both.” She picks up the mop again, wringing it out angrily before slapping it back onto the floor. “Can you both get back to work? I’d like to get home at a decent time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other two share what Jamie hopes is their last all-knowing glance, then thankfully, they leave her alone.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>About an hour later, Jamie returns to a nearly dark flat. Dani is asleep already, or at the very least is closed away in her room. She left only one lamp on, the one by the violets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie tries to sleep in her bed, but it feels wrongly empty. She ends up falling asleep on the couch instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It seems like she blinks once, then it’s morning. Harsh winter sunlight slices through the windows, and the plants are bathing in it. At Jamie’s feet, Dani is standing with her back to her, watering her— their— indoor garden. The words roll off her tongue automatically, finally ready after some thirty-six hours of brewing: “I’m sorry, Dani.” Her voice is raspy and faint, still clogged with sleep gunk, but Dani hears and stops what she’s doing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani’s movements are measured and leisurely as she sets down the watering can and moves around the couch. Jamie lies in wait, preparing for the worst. Apparently it won’t be death by watering can, but if it’s going to be blunt force trauma she hopes Dani will make it quick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But no— instead Dani stops at the other end of the sofa, standing above Jamie’s head. From Jamie’s view, her face is upside down and even harder to read. She’s about to speak again when Dani leans down, her lips inches from hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the worst,” Dani murmurs, a familiar glint growing in her eyes. “You know that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie’s smile is cautious but genuine. “I know,” she agrees. “God, I know.” She isn’t sure who dives in first, but it doesn’t matter; all she knows is that Dani Clayton is kissing her again, and her lips are a soft, smiling comfort, like pillows that pull her back into the sweetest slumber.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani draws back from the kiss with a laugh, their noses brushing. “I like you,” she sighs, her breath stirring Jamie’s hair. “A </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like you too much,” Jamie replies. She’s going cross-eyed staring at Dani’s upside-down face, so she whispers, “C’mere, baby.” Dani enthusiastically rounds the corner of the couch and climbs on top of her, reattaching their lips amidst another joyful giggle. This, Jamie thinks, is the start of something not so bad.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. spring</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jamie can only hope that wherever she goes, Dani might consider taking her along.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>so... how about that "i love you with every piece of me left"... i didn't ask to be destroyed all over again, but here we are...</p><p>anyway, happy new year! this will be the (very fluffy) final installment for this little fic which ended up being not-so-little. i appreciate every last one of you who read, commented, and left kudos. it means the world to me and more that you all enjoyed the project that has kind of taken over my life for the past month.</p><p>if my inspiration plays out the way i hope it will, i will be writing more stuff for bly in the near future, so maybe i'll talk to some of you again soon! fingers crossed i actually get my shit together and just write, dammit. guess we'll see :) much love, and here's to a marginally better 2021!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Have a great day, sir.” Dani keeps her smile on until the customer turns to leave, then right away she drops it and turns to Rebecca with a miffed expression. “That guy left me a </span>
  <em>
    <span>one cent </span>
  </em>
  <span>tip. And acted like he was doing </span>
  <em>
    <span>me </span>
  </em>
  <span>a favor. I can’t believe the nerve of some people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rebecca laughs as she moves to take Dani’s place at the register. “Don’t worry— it never gets better!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, great,” Dani snorts. She starts walking toward the back, but pauses when the bell over the door chimes again. In walks Miles, or at least Dani </span>
  <em>
    <span>thinks </span>
  </em>
  <span>it’s Miles, but his face is hidden behind an enormous bouquet. Only when he shifts the flowers in his arms does she catch a glimpse of his familiar complacent grin. Dani notices Rebecca stifle a sigh, so she tiptoes backwards to greet him instead, peering over the pastry case. “Hey there, Miles!” she calls. “That’s, um, very sweet of you to get your sister flowers, but Flora’s not working today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, these aren’t for Bore-uh Flora,” Miles announces, marching up to the counter. As he gets closer Dani can see how seriously </span>
  <em>
    <span>ridiculous </span>
  </em>
  <span>the flowers are; it looks like every plant in Jamie’s garden bred to create a monster specimen which then barfed all over a tangle of pink cellophane and glitter. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots Rebecca leaning into a face-palm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... oh,” Dani mumbles, the first traces of dread creeping into her tone. “So... who—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re for you, of course,” says Miles. He drops the bouquet heavily on the counter— apparently there is a flat base somewhere in that mess— and offers her an equally overdressed smile. “It’s a beautiful spring day, so I thought, ‘Why not get a pretty girl some gorgeous flowers?’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani’s throat goes dry. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Um, okay. Miles... </span>
  <em>
    <span>thank you, </span>
  </em>
  <span>really, but... I’m not exactly comfortable with—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s this?” Jamie appears from the back, setting a carton of milk in the small reach-in fridge. Though their walk-in fridge escapades are less frequent now that everyone knows about them, Dani and Jamie still indulge in the occasional “milk grabbing.” But, well, apparently not </span>
  <em>
    <span>everyone </span>
  </em>
  <span>knows, because— emphasis on the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>here— </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone fucking forgot to tell Miles. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie fully turns toward the tense interaction and at last lays her eyes upon the floral monstrosity. “Blimey,” she exclaims, her eyebrows forming an unusual shape of incredulity. “Who on god’s green earth brought in that—” Her words snag on Miles’ smirk when he stands up a little taller. “— </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>did. Shocking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Miles can throw gasoline on the fire with another smug statement, Dani loops her arm through Jamie’s and tells her delicately, “They’re, uh... for me.” Then she watches Jamie with a nervous stare, gauging her reaction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani thinks back to this morning at their flat, when she woke up in Jamie’s (their?) bed with Jamie’s (their?) unbuttoned flannel falling off her shoulders. (It should be noted that Dani’s own bedroom rarely gets much attention these days, considering the facts that 1) Jamie’s mattress is way comfier— yes, it’s probably comfier just because Jamie is there, </span>
  <em>
    <span>what about it,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and 2) the options in Dani’s closet are less appealing to her than the oversized, well-worn offerings in Jamie’s closet. And by now, all of Dani’s favorite possessions have gradually migrated into Jamie’s space, anyway.) With March being its typical fickle self, last night it had been chilly and gray when they fell asleep, but this morning they were greeted by a bold blue, cloud-streaked sky straight out of a children’s book. With the way it was beaming harshly through the curtains, Dani had almost expected to look outside and find a smiling cartoon sun as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then, </span>
  <em>
    <span>then, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she’d glanced over at the other side of the bed, and was met with the glorious sight of Jamie shimmying into a Cafe Viola tee. Dani lay still and watched the rippling scar on Jamie’s right shoulder disappear under the fabric. Her eyes closely followed the movement of toned arms wiggling through short sleeves. Oh, yes, Dani loves her jumpers, but she is </span>
  <em>
    <span>more </span>
  </em>
  <span>than ready for warm weather again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now Dani is watching those same toned arms flex with an air of annoyance. They both know Miles is obviously no real threat— Owen had explained at one point during Dani’s early days here that Miles is </span>
  <em>
    <span>“a kind lad, just... lonely. Henry has him in therapy”—</span>
  </em>
  <span> so Dani knows that whatever is about to exit Jamie’s mouth will be from mere irritation. She also knows that whatever Jamie is going to say will </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>not disappoint. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, you little bairn,” Jamie begins, already earning a cool glare from him, “I think it’s best if you take that godawful bouquet of yours, march yourself back down to the place you got it from, and demand your money back. They should be ashamed of themselves, these poor things are choking on glitter.” With a gentle finger, she skims one of the petals of a neon-dyed rose, and cringes at the layer of artificial sparkle that comes off on her skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani grits her teeth into a polite smile, pulling Jamie’s hand back to hers and threading their fingers together. “And she’s saying that from a place of </span>
  <em>
    <span>love,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she adds, weighing down the last word with forced emphasis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie frowns over at her. “Am I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rebecca smoothly removes herself from the awkward scene, brushing behind her coworkers with an amused mutter of, “Only Miles Wingrave would try to give pharmacy flowers to the girlfriend of a professional gardener.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In response, Jamie throws a vicious scowl in the direction she went. Meanwhile, Dani’s brain stalls like an old computer. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Umm, come again? </span>
  </em>
  <span>She peers over at Jamie, but she has returned her laser death glare to Miles. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Did I hear that right? Did Rebecca say... girlfriend? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s been a little over a month since Jamie first called her </span>
  <em>
    <span>“baby” </span>
  </em>
  <span>and thus single-handedly melted Dani’s insides— but they still have yet to </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually </span>
  </em>
  <span>put a label on what they are to each other. Probably a little silly of them, but Dani and Jamie don’t exactly have the best track record when it comes to logic. After all, why think </span>
  <em>
    <span>straight</span>
  </em>
  <span> when you can think </span>
  <em>
    <span>gay?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>(Although Dani </span>
  <em>
    <span>can </span>
  </em>
  <span>say that she recently made the good decision to distance herself from Eddie online, since she already took care of the physical distance a while ago. In hindsight, it was never about jealousy; she had just missed her friend. But she’s Dani Clayton now— always has been— and this is a new chapter of her life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s also changed her Facebook profile photo to a selfie she took with Jamie while they were squeezed into a huge, roomy hoodie together. Dani had been insistent on proving a point about Jamie’s baggy clothes, and proving that point ended up with them being in </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>close proximity to each other, awkwardly navigating the art of making out and tickling each other while literally wearing the same article of clothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, several of Dani’s old-fashioned relatives found a way to make the picture platonic, saying shit like </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You have such an adorable friend, Danielle!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Now you just have to find a cute British boyfriend to cuddle with like that!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dani had been hesitant to clarify things, yet also pleasantly surprised that her distant family had finally accepted the reality that Danielle and Edmund will never be everyone’s prized “childhood friends to married lovers” duo. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie then suggested that in June, Dani can post some photos from a pride parade to give those relatives a </span>
  <em>
    <span>slightly</span>
  </em>
  <span> less subtle clue. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Just as a start,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she said, because she has been endlessly accommodating with Dani’s gradual, bumbling coming out process. Dani still thinks she doesn’t deserve Jamie’s patience.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani reminds herself to schedule her gay panic for a later time, however, because right now Jamie is still staring down Miles the way a frustrated babysitter faces off with an unruly kid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, the place doesn’t have refunds, so...” Miles shrugs. “I guess you’re stuck with these, Jamie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie heaves a sigh, but the beginnings of a smile fight through her irritation. “Whatever. Just bugger off, kid.” There’s a short-lived squeeze where her hand is linked with Dani’s, then she adds, “And leave my girl alone, ‘ight?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay, Dani </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>can’t ignore that one. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>My girl”? ... oh my god. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Trying to focus on something other than her fluttering heartbeat— they’re still at work, after all— she turns to Jamie after Miles leaves. “Yikes. Hopefully that’s the end of it.” She lets out a big breath of relief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. Just promise I won’t lose you to that charmer. I hate to say it, but I kinda need you around, Poppins,” Jamie replies, lowering her voice for the last part as if it’s any secret. She lifts her little finger, and Dani bends her pinkie around hers, giggling when Jamie drops a quick kiss to seal them together. “Alright, that’s settled, then.” She steps away quickly, but Dani still spies the blush coloring her cheeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, what about the flowers?” Dani asks, shooting a foreboding glance at the colorful “present” Miles left behind for them. At least he finally admitted defeat, though dumping this messy project (Dani already knows Jamie will view it as such) on them was a sly way to get the last word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eh.” Jamie shrugs. “We can take ‘em home, I’ll see what I can do to save them from imminent glitterfied doom.” She then moves over to the small hand-washing sink and starts scrubbing down like she’s prepping for surgery. “C’mon now, wash up,” she orders. “Gotta have clean hands to pour those coffees.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(That’s a valid point, but in an ideal world, Dani would never have to cleanse her skin of Jamie’s lips.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani grins, shoving her aside to put her own hands under the stream of water. Jamie flicks foamy soap on her in retaliation, pulling an indignant squeal out of Dani. Behind them, Rebecca passes by with another groan. “You two are </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>at it, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie flicks some soap on her, too.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Dani’s birthday rolls around in late March, and she spends the entire day working. Owen tries to offer her the day off, but it’s not much of a choice for her, really. Turning 27 isn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>big of a deal. And where else other than Cafe Viola could Dani be around the people she cares about, the family she’s found? There is no other place she would rather be, except </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe </span>
  </em>
  <span>their flat, but only if Jamie is there with her. Everyone is at work today, even Hannah herself, and just for the sake of old times (and as a treat), Dani is allowed to stay stationed at the register for her entire shift, doing the easiest task possible. Just like on her first day, Dani finds herself staring out across the lobby at the paintings. Oddly, the lake painting is gone now, too. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Huh, it must’ve sold. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>During their midday smoke break, Dani, Jamie, and Rebecca spark up with Jamie’s customized lighter (which Dani has further personalized by drawing little Owen-esque mustaches on everyone in Sharpie marker). The alley behind the building is its usual thrilling self, full of gravel to kick around and bricks to stare at. But it is always significantly improved by the presence of Jamie, who currently keeps tucking a stray curl behind her ear again and again. The repeated action is mechanical, but nonetheless amusing to Dani, who knows Jamie won’t ever mention it. So, unprompted, Dani steps behind her to fix her hair, cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t believe it’s your special day, and you wanna spend it </span>
  <em>
    <span>here,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Rebecca remarks what all of Dani’s coworkers are thinking.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Psh,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dani dismisses it, mumbling around the cig while her hands are occupied. “Believe it or not, I kinda </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> working here. And you guys are going easy on me today, so.” Too busy taming Jamie’s hair, she misses a communicative glance shared between the other two.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How </span>
  <em>
    <span>strange, liking </span>
  </em>
  <span>working here,” Jamie teases. “I can’t imagine.” She takes a careful puff from her cig, making sure to keep still so Dani can do, well, whatever she’s doing with an old scrunchie and determined fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani chuckles. “You just realized now that I’m a weirdo?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh no, I’ve known. I’m just restating it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani finishes off the makeshift hair knot, snapping the scrunchie a </span>
  <em>
    <span>little </span>
  </em>
  <span>harder than necessary just for that comment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ow!” Jamie gasps, rubbing at her scalp with a mock affronted expression. “Hey, you’re the one who said it, not me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, since you two are getting along so splendidly,” Rebecca cuts in, tapping ash off her cigarette, “I hope it’ll be welcome news that I have to leave early. Peter, um, has a thing. That I have to... attend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The insult aimed at Peter that immediately rolls off Jamie’s tongue comes as no surprise to Dani, but the peculiar stiltedness of Rebecca’s speech does. She usually doesn’t bother giving an excuse; everyone </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows </span>
  </em>
  <span>it’s always because Peter has stuck another controlling pin into the voodoo doll he has of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, that’s fine,” Dani starts. “Flora and the others—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“— also have to leave early. For various reasons.” Rebecca clears her throat and smooths out her apron. “So you two will be closing alone. Sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani lifts her brows and glances over at Jamie. The last time they closed just the two of them was New Year’s Eve. That was a good night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘tis what it is,” Jamie says with a shrug. If Dani was standing any closer to her, she would be able to feel Jamie’s heartbeat, tangible and pulsing in the thick air between them.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“So technically, this could count as a date, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani’s voice is light, teasing, but the words still send Jamie’s heart rate through the roof of this stupid place. Her brain scrambles for a moment trying to think of something to respond with that has at least a trace of wit in it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I, ah... guess you could say that,” Jamie mutters, pausing her mopping to peer over at Dani, who is balancing the register. “Apparently ol’ Viola has cursed us, ‘cause it’s too weird to go on dates to any other coffee shops now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it just doesn’t feel right,” Dani agrees. “Now every time I walk into a Pret or Costa, I feel like I should get behind the counter and start working.” She shuts the register drawer and approaches Jamie in the lobby. “So, here we are... it’s just the two of us. We’re in a cute little coffee shop. The stars are twinkling outside,” she narrates obnoxiously between giggles, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“and</span>
  </em>
  <span> it’s kind of my birthday.” Jamie grins; Dani Clayton is the only person who would say that it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>“kind of” </span>
  </em>
  <span>her birthday.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold on, haven’t I done you enough favors already? I’m mopping the floor for you...”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Shhh.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dani reaches for her and brings her into a soft, relaxed kiss. At her touch, everything else around them ebbs away, and the mop handle slips out of Jamie’s hands. Neither of them notice the noise it makes, nor do they care. With both hands free, Jamie uses them to cradle Dani’s face and stroke her thumbs along Dani’s gorgeous jaw. It takes all of Jamie’s energy not to let her lips run astray and nibble elsewhere. But she has to set her little plan in motion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie forces herself away from the sweet cavern of Dani’s mouth. Her brain lags trying to come up with something to shoo Dani away for just a minute. As usual, the first thing that occurs to her is the first thing out of her mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, milk,” she says. Dani stares bemusedly at her, brow crinkled, and Jamie realizes she forgot every other part of the sentence. “I mean— could you grab some milk? I’d like the reach-in to be stocked for tomorrow morning before we go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani tilts her head. “Like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually </span>
  </em>
  <span>grab milk?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Jamie nods way too fast and averts her eyes from Dani’s disappointment. It won’t last long, she knows that, but that doesn’t make it any easier to look at. “Can you just— please.”</span>
</p><p><span>With a sigh, Dani retreats back behind the counter and disappears into the back room. Jamie blows out a shaky breath and swipes a hand over her tousled curls. </span><em><span>Fuck. </span></em><span>They both know very well by now that grabbing milk doesn’t actually</span> <span>take </span><em><span>that</span></em><span> long, so Dani will be back out here within seconds. Jamie springs into action, pushing tables and chairs aside and flicking on the fairy lights she had strung up earlier while Dani was washing dishes (which she honestly isn’t the best at, but Jamie resolves to let her know about that another time).</span></p><p>
  <span>Sure enough, Dani is back in no time, silent and sullen as she opens the reach-in fridge and shoves a couple of milk cartons in. Jamie gives a tiny cough, and Dani looks over at her, her face instantly softening into the smile that upended Jamie’s life forever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Poppins,” Jamie begins, only to grimace when she realizes the damn mop bucket is still in the middle of an otherwise perfectly-set lobby. She kicks it away, and it rolls loudly across the floor, prompting both of them to snort out some unplanned laughter. With that out of the way, Jamie tries again, “Poppins, I... I know we never officially... </span>
  <em>
    <span>defined</span>
  </em>
  <span> anything. But I think that it’s about time we do. And since my birthday didn’t end great, I thought yours should be better.” She holds out tentative hands, and Dani eagerly moves around the counter to take them. “You deserve to be asked out for real, clearly and thoughtfully asked. So, with all that preamble junk said...” Jamie swings their connected arms, keeping contact with the blue eyes that have finally swallowed her whole. “... do you wanna be my girlfriend? Or rather, is it cool if </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m </span>
  </em>
  <span>your girlfriend? Because I think that would be perfectly—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She is interrupted by a kiss; the best way to be interrupted, if you ask Jamie. She smiles into it like a goon, laughs tumbling out of both of them. But still, she can’t help pulling back slightly, keeping her forehead pressed against Dani’s as she clarifies, “So is that a yes?” Dani nods. “You sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Dani breathes, impatiently drawing them back into a kiss that’ll be even better than the last, as they tend to be. She smells like coffee (surprise, surprise), and her favorite perfume is layered underneath, always second to the Cafe Viola essence that clings to them both after a long shift.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their noses brushing, Jamie exhales gently. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Thank fuck.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her eyes are closed, but every other sense guides her lips back onto Dani’s, precisely where they belong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For once time doesn’t matter, so they take all of it that they want, slowly closing up shop then roaming the maze of city blocks between Cafe Viola and their flat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s nearly dark when they unlock the door and step inside. The apartment is fully enclosed in the clutches of a hazy spring dusk. Dani only bothers to flick on one lamp before Jamie has her rolling against the wall, kissing every detail of her smile and drinking every syllable of her laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To think that Dani was at one point the height of annoying to Jamie is unimaginable now. All these months later, Poppins is simply the best kind of annoying to her. Annoying in the way she makes Jamie’s heart tickle the base of her throat </span>
  <em>
    <span>all the damn time. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Annoying in the way she knows exactly what drives Jamie wild. Annoying in the way she loves so hard that Jamie can’t possibly hate herself ever again, because how could she hate something that Dani cares so much about?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie only needs the gritty yellow light from the lamp to find the long, thin box she pushes into Dani’s hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What... what’s this?” Dani asks, still chasing down the breath that Jamie snatched and ran off with. “Oh my </span>
  <em>
    <span>god, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jamie, you— you didn’t have to get me anyth—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shhh. Obviously I was gonna get you something, come on. You only turn 37 once.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In retaliation to the joke, Dani lifts one of Jamie’s hands and playfully bites at her knuckles. Then she takes the lid off the box, revealing a necklace resting on a bed of fluffy cotton. It’s a silly little thing, Jamie knows, but it’s their silly little thing, and that’s all that matters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani is quiet as she lifts the jewelry out of its box. She turns toward the dim light, her fingertips finding the charm dangling from the chain. It’s a minuscule teacup, but upon a closer look, Dani spots the tiny </span>
  <em>
    <span>“P” </span>
  </em>
  <span>engraved on the side of it. Jamie had considered a few different options for the engraving; it could’ve fit their initials, but that seemed like a bit much to her. So instead she gave the jeweler that single basic initial, the letter that stands for much more than just a nickname. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Poppins </span>
  </em>
  <span>marks the first time Jamie thought more deeply about Dani than she intended to, that night they went dancing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Poppins </span>
  </em>
  <span>is also a representation of Dani’s true passion, and a reminder that she won’t be stuck at Cafe Viola forever. Jamie can only hope that wherever she goes, Dani might consider taking her along.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani seems to be at a loss for words, only able to shake her head rapidly and blink away tears. “Thank you,” she whispers, opening the clasp on the necklace and arranging it around her neck. Without being asked, Jamie helps her, urging Dani to hold her hair out of the way while she guides the loop back into the finicky clasp. Even after it’s on, Jamie hesitates for a moment, gazing at the back of Dani’s neck, at the wisps of blonde hair already tangled with the necklace’s chain like she’s been wearing it for ages, and at the skin Jamie’s lips and fingers have brushed so many times, dropping kisses and pulling down zippers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One more thing,” Jamie says. She moves across the room and flicks on the switch to a brighter light which seems to pool gradually in the space. Dani’s eyes quickly find where Jamie’s are pointed towards— the new painting hanging on the wall above the TV. Truthfully, the painting isn’t that new to them at all. But seeing it now in the mellow lighting of the flat as opposed to the more fluorescent glare in the cafe, it’s quite different.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“The Lady of the Lake.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dani says it like a reflex. She shuffles across the carpet, taking in every inch of the painted canvas. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know the lake one is your favorite, so I talked to Hannah and brought it home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani laughing definitely isn’t the first reaction Jamie expected out of her, but it isn’t the last one, either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Jamie asks, walking over to stand next to her in front of Charlotte’s painting. “Have you decided you hate it now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, I love it,” Dani assures her. “But it’s just so... </span>
  <em>
    <span>creepy.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie smirks. “Okay, well, hard agree there. We can move it somewhere where we won’t ever see it— like your room, maybe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani switches from burying her giggles in her hand to burying them in Jamie’s chest. She leans so heavily into her that Jamie nearly loses her balance, but she hangs on, wrapping her arms around Dani’s back. After a few minutes, they calm down and Jamie leads her in a lazy, quiet little dance around the living room. As they spin, she says again, “Happy birthday, Poppins.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This might be my favorite one yet,” Dani admits. “I mean, I’m old now—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“— hey, watch it, I’m a year older than you—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“— but it was so nice and low-key. Just the cafe family, no embarrassing surprise parties...” Dani leans away to meet Jamie’s eyes. “I’m sorry for the way your birthday went.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie shrugs one shoulder; it’s an apology that has already been made (more than once), and already been forgiven. “I still dream about that cupcake,” she jests, absently reaching to fix Dani’s necklace so that the clasp is back behind her neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can have a redo, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Already ahead of you.” Jamie ignores her puzzled look for a minute to enter the kitchen. She returns with not one, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>two </span>
  </em>
  <span>cupcakes from downstairs, just as oversized and overloaded with chocolate as the one from before. At Dani’s wide-eyed expression, Jamie sticks out her tongue and joins her on the couch. “Don’t worry, I didn’t expect you to share,” she says, offering one to Dani.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie’s girlfriend— </span>
  <em>
    <span>wow, </span>
  </em>
  <span>this is real life— says nothing. She just blinks warmly at Jamie, pecks her temple, then dives into the dessert.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>In the middle of a drizzly night in April, Dani is woken by several successive </span>
  <em>
    <span>dings </span>
  </em>
  <span>coming from both her phone and Jamie’s. Usually she sleeps like a corpse in Jamie’s arms, but a million text tones at once have a grating effect on her. The sound seems excessively piercing in the pitch blackness of the bedroom, and Dani winces as yet another text loudly announces itself. Next to her, Jamie grumbles but doesn’t stir. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had started the night finishing their long-term Netflix binge, then a conversation had turned into sofa sex. After that they changed into t-shirts and sweats that could have originally been either of theirs, not that it mattered anymore (though the small coffee stain on the hem of Jamie’s star-patterned tee gave Dani the clue that it was probably hers to begin with, but is now just </span>
  <em>
    <span>theirs). </span>
  </em>
  <span>They then crawled into bed together, Dani flipping lazily through a magazine while paying partial attention to Jamie’s virtual gardening on </span>
  <em>
    <span>Animal Crossing. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Despite noise from the pub downstairs— which isn’t nearly as bad as the shit Dani would deal with at her old place— they were easily lulled to sleep by the rain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another </span>
  <em>
    <span>ding </span>
  </em>
  <span>lights up their phone screens, and Dani sighs, figuring it must be urgent if whoever it is won’t leave them alone. There’s just one minor obstacle between her and the noisy devices on the nightstand: Jamie’s arm, heavy with sleep, weighing Dani down like an anchor. Normally Dani is all too happy to serve as the little spoon, but at the moment, it’s putting her at a bit of a disadvantage. She shifts over on the mattress, jerking along on her side like a fish flopping on a dock, trying her best not to disturb Jamie’s slumber if she doesn’t have to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After what feels like an hour, Dani reaches her destination. She flails one arm over the mattress’s edge and fastens her fingers around one of the phones, not caring who’s it is. Apparently she grabbed Jamie’s, as indicated by the basic black case busted at the corners. She taps the screen and finds that Rebecca has sent a barrage of messages to the group chat that includes Jamie and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Poppins</span>
  </em>
  <span>🌱</span>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dani scans over them quickly. The last text is the most coherent, and thus the most important since it clicks with Dani’s sleep-addled brain.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Can one of you please come downstairs and let me inside. Please hurry</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Worry flares in Dani’s gut, then continues burning like a newly lit cigarette, impossible to ignore. Resolving not to rouse Jamie, she carefully extracts herself from her big spoon’s embrace. Once she’s on her feet, Dani pauses to kiss the corner of Jamie’s mouth and smirk at her drowsy mumbling. Out in the foyer, she throws on a windbreaker, braid slipping over her shoulder as she tugs the hood over her head and zips up. Just to be safe, she locks the door behind her and brings keys along, then jogs down the front staircase and throws open the door that leads directly outside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She certainly wasn’t expecting Rebecca to still have company, but then again, Peter Quint isn’t usually accustomed to doing what anyone else expects of him. Stupefied, Dani stares at the dramatic scene laid out before her through the driving rain. Peter’s black Peugeot— a sleek but heavily-used car— is idling crookedly at the curb, and Peter himself is still inside it, probably because he doesn’t want the rain to dissolve his hair gel, or for some other vain reason. He’s screaming some obscenity that is practically unintelligible to Dani through his thick, angry accent. Meanwhile, Rebecca is yelling right back at him from where she stands on the sidewalk, suitcase in hand. Even if Dani wasn’t fully lucid now, it wouldn’t take full consciousness to put two and two together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Becca?” she says, and her coworker whirls around to face her, nearly caving in on herself in relief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Dani, thank god,” Rebecca gasps, rushing over to shelter in the doorway next to her. She hauls the suitcase along behind her, and in frenzied, rain-soaked confusion, the two women speak over each other while Dani tries to take the burdensome bag off Rebecca’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here, let me get this—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry for waking you up, I had no one else—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s fine, really. Let’s go—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, Peter gets another word in before Dani can plot their immediate escape as she hoped. “Oh yeah, Becs, go have a sleepover with the lesbians! Enjoy your fockin’ threesome. I know I’ll see you back home tomorrow, I always do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off, Peter!” Rebecca screams back. “We’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>done. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I’m not fucking joking around. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Done.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll be back!” he shouts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani shudders at the venom in his tone, almost positive that if it weren’t for the rain, they would be able to feel his spittle flying at them through the rolled down car window. Still, she manages to pin a glare on him that would have been a raised middle finger if she had a free hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, Peter decides to let Rebecca go for now. His car peels away from the curb, its taillights melting into the mist with one last roar of the engine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus Christ,” Rebecca mutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just from observing this, Dani has trapped herself in a web of unwanted thoughts. This could have been her and Eddie, stuck together by spiteful desire, bitterly crawling out of the grave their love has become that wasn’t a grave when he fell into it and pulled her down with him. But it’s not even Eddie who Dani is thinking of when the image of Peter’s icy, aloof eyes snags in her memory. It’s the evocation of one of Eddie’s brothers, and again with a few of her mother’s boyfriends over the years: a witnessed domestic dispute, the idea of experiencing a love gone sour, of being </span>
  <em>
    <span>imprisoned </span>
  </em>
  <span>by expectation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani is quiet and shivering as she leads Rebecca up the stairs and down the hall to the flat. The trembling sinks into her hands, which can barely keep a grip on the key as she turns it in the lock. By the time she ushers Rebecca inside and has hung their sopping coats on the hooks by the door, she’s numb. Rebecca says something to her, but she doesn’t hear it, running on pure instinct as she rifles through her purse for her cigarettes. Her other hand twists the teacup charm on her necklace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani doesn’t even realize she failed to turn on the lights until Jamie appears, yawning as she clumsily fingers the switch on a lamp. “The hell,” her girlfriend grunts, scratching at her bedhead while her jaw cracks open again. “‘s three in the mornin’, wot—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I left Peter,” Rebecca interrupts, skipping the preamble Dani got a front row seat to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie squints at her for a moment, clearly still struggling to bring herself to full consciousness. She doesn’t even question what that has to do with Rebecca currently standing in their apartment in the middle of the night. Instead she just sighs and says, “An’ you had to leave ‘im at three in the morning?” With that, she pulls their friend into a hug so that Rebecca can sniffle into her shoulder. Jamie’s voice shifts into sincerity when she says, “Hey now. I’m proud of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rebecca declines offers of tea, so Jamie shows her Dani’s unoccupied bed to collapse on top of. Only five minutes have elapsed while Jamie took care of their guest, but Dani is still frozen by the front door, searching for a pack of cigs that she’s now pretty sure she left on the coffee table a few feet away. But she can’t move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Jamie says softly, approaching Dani from her left. “Bit of a mad night, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani nods briskly, her eyes closed. “Yeah, yeah, um... she was texting a lot, and it woke me up, so...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I read the texts.” Jamie pauses, resting a hand on her shoulder. “I wish you woke me up,” she says honestly. “You two didn’t have to kick Quint’s arse alone, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A faint smile appears on Dani’s face despite herself, a brief flash of sun through storm clouds. But she’s still rooted to the spot, unable to lean into Jamie’s touch the way she usually does. The only part of her that moves seems to be her nerves, tingling like pop rocks under her skin.</span>
</p><p><span>“What’s the matter?” Jamie asks. Another hand lands on Dani’s other shoulder, guiding her into a tender hug. Dani </span><em><span>wants</span></em><span> to open her eyes and help herself to the affection displayed on Jamie’s face. But instead she hides herself in the coffee-stained t-shirt that was</span> <span>once hers and is now </span><em><span>theirs. </span></em><span>(It’s hard to imagine now that sharing clothes was once a minor point of contention between them— but Jamie has always been more protective of her plants than her wardrobe, and the word </span><em><span>“stolen”</span></em><span> quickly faded from her vocabulary after just one look at Dani in </span><em><span>“her”</span></em><span> top.) </span></p><p>
  <span>An accidental sob rakes up Dani’s throat. “It was just... it was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she chokes out. “It’s stupid, I don’t know, but seeing him be so </span>
  <em>
    <span>nasty </span>
  </em>
  <span>to her, it just... it reminded me of past stuff.” A shaky exhale rattles through her lungs. Jamie hugs her closer, and the sheet of ice coating her finally cracks. Along with the ice, the urge to smoke away her panic wanes. “I shouldn’t even be the one freaking out, I mean, it’s Becca who—”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Becca,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jamie cuts in lightly, “is currently snoring on your bed. Believe me, she’ll be fine— not right away, but she’ll be fine. I really think she left him for good this time.” She hesitates, and Dani listens, timing her breathing with Jamie’s. “But... it’s not stupid, what you’re feeling. It’s not okay, either, and it doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be okay right now. But I’m here for you, alright, Dani?” She leans away so they can lock eyes. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani kisses her, swift and chaste.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And hey, there’s one positive in all this. Well, besides the obvious good riddance,” Jamie murmurs. Dani looks at her curiously. “With Becca staying here, your poor abandoned room finally has a use again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At last, another wave of Jamie has crashed onto a storm-battered shore, washing worries out to sea. Dani laughs and stays in her arms until they fall back asleep.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>About a month after her birthday, Dani is waiting in line to order takeout for lunch when her phone starts ringing from her pocket. She frowns at the unfamiliar number, but something compels her to step out of line and answer it anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, hello?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, is this Danielle Clayton?” The voice is American, but from a part of the country Dani can’t put her finger on. It certainly isn’t where she came from, at least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... yes, this is she... may I ask who’s calling?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, my name is Vicky Crain. I’m the principal of Bly Country Day School near Burlington, Vermont. An old colleague of mine reached out to me some time ago, a former employer of yours in Iowa. To be frank, he said he was concerned about the abruptness with which you left your previous teaching position there, and he insisted on forwarding your resume to me just on the off chance something ever opened up for you here— a kind of safety net, if you will. Well, I’m aware this could very well be a day late and a dollar short, but we do have an opening starting this fall that I think would be an excellent fit for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She may as well have struck Dani across the face. A million different responses run through her mind at once. It doesn’t occur to her to mention that she isn’t currently anywhere in the vicinity of Burlington-freaking-Vermont, though maybe that’s to be expected considering it isn’t all that close to Iowa, either. Still, though, she’s a whole ocean away from a potential interview, not just a few thousand miles. And Jamie. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jamie. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dani isn’t on her own anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she finally collects her thoughts, she can only respond, “I’m— um, flattered. Thank you so much for your consideration.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I hope you will genuinely consider it. I would love to meet with you for a face-to-face interview sometime this summer. If it helps with your decision, it’s worth mentioning that we’re located on a beautiful campus just outside a charming little city— it sounds like I’m reading off a travel brochure, but it’s the truth. Oh, and one thing my colleague emphasized was your concern about not truly reaching every kid in the classroom. Believe me, Ms. Clayton, I understand that sentiment. You want to make lasting differences, help shape every mind. So it might be helpful for you to know we have a very small student-to-faculty ratio, generally only ten to twelve students per class. You would be teaching a group of about ten fourth-graders.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani feels like she must be dreaming. She’s felt that way a lot lately, usually in the context of having a girlfriend who adores her unabashedly. But right now, here she is, standing in a Chinese restaurant in London, possibly on the precipice of her life changing again. “Wow, I- I think this job sounds like a dream come true. I’m... </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>interested, but truthfully it would be a big relocation for me. I’ll have to talk to my—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voice on the other end of the line is friendly, but all business. “Of course. We’ll be in touch, then. But please let me know soon— we would really like to have you join us.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The past few occasions Dani and Jamie secured a day off on the same day, they made the most of it, passing the time as couch potatoes who only moved to eat, make out, or water plants (the three most important pillars of life, obviously). Today, however, they had decided to make the most of it differently, taking the Tube to a part of the city Dani had never visited before. They wandered through various open air markets, surrounded by chatting vendors, tightly-packed stands, and enticing food smells. Dani spent the afternoon holding an organic, fruity-cocktail-filled Mason jar in one hand, and Jamie’s hand in the other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ride back to their stomping grounds is long and quiet, because if you talk on the train, Londoners </span>
  <em>
    <span>stare, </span>
  </em>
  <span>especially at Dani when they hear her accent. Dani lets herself slip into peaceful semi-consciousness leaning on Jamie’s shoulder. For just a half-hour, the pressing need to tell Jamie her news drifts away from the front of her brain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they emerge from their Underground station, there’s still traces of daylight left in the sky. The mild May air moves like a rush around them, breezy and picking up any stray leaves it comes across. The mischievous spring wind plays with Dani’s hair the way Jamie’s fingers often do, tossing waves and twirling curls. Dani could </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost </span>
  </em>
  <span>enjoy it, if she could just get the weight off her chest that has been there for almost two weeks now. She shouldn’t deny herself the opportunity to be back doing what she loves. But at the same time, Dani knows that soon she’ll have to start researching flights— just a visit, she tells herself, just a long weekend for the interview, a visit that may end up not becoming a permanent move. Each second that passes without Jamie being clued in feels so </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>They are almost home— just stopping by to freshen up before going back out for dinner somewhere— when Jamie’s phone rings. (Dani is starting to realize that fate tends to call them a lot.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie answers, holding frustratingly impassive eye contact with Dani the entire time. “Are you serious?” she says after a minute. “Right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She puts the call on speaker and holds the phone between them so Dani can also listen. It’s Owen on the other end, she quickly deduces, as the switch to speaker drops them both in the middle of a rambling, excited monologue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... I know, I know, but we thought it only made sense to call the other couple that has happened thanks to Cafe Viola, and it would mean so much to us if you both could come. It won’t take more than twenty minutes, so little </span>
  <em>
    <span>thyme </span>
  </em>
  <span>that you can barely taste it— get it, because time and t—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannah’s voice interrupts him, the relaxed trickle of water that can always calm down Owen’s forest fire of delirium. “There’ll be cake afterward. Maybe that will convince you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie looks over at Dani, her grin broad enough to narrow her eyes, as if she’s gazing straight into the sun. Jamie’s eyes on her feel like a hug, just as they have also felt like a kiss or a caress, and before that, a million knives, or a wall. Dani wants to bring those crystal eyes with her wherever she ends up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How about it, Poppins? You wanna be a witness for a wedding tonight?”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Less than an hour later, they show up at a petite chapel tucked into a street corner not far from the cafe. The building is small but mighty, shoved in among the taller, newer buildings like an afterthought, but imposing with its intricate architecture highlighted by the rising moon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A quick change of clothes at their flat hadn’t stalled them for that long; with the casual nature of the ceremony made abundantly clear, Dani simply stepped into a muted yellow sundress and tied up her hair. Not in the mood to deal with a dress, Jamie decided to piece together an informal suit with her favorite button up. She allowed Dani to do her tie for her, because Jamie is kind of shit at tying ties (and she can’t resist a few held-breath moments of Dani leaning in close to her, puffing warm exhales onto her skin). For once Jamie can send a silent </span>
  <em>
    <span>thank you </span>
  </em>
  <span>to Eddie for not ever being able to tie his own ties, thus making Dani learn how to do it for him over the years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All this,” Jamie says as they walk up the steps of the venue, indicating their hastily-assembled yet attractive getup, “and you </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span> can’t make a cup of tea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Dani defends herself, “technically I can </span>
  <em>
    <span>make </span>
  </em>
  <span>it, I just can’t make it—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“— good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“— I just can’t make it </span>
  <em>
    <span>well, </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be grammatically accurate,” Dani corrects, sticking out her tongue at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, whatever you say, Teach.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannah and Owen’s intimate ceremony is beautiful, not that they expected anything less. When Hannah even manages to squeeze a pun into her vows, the look of true love that strikes across Owen’s face is remarkable. The entire time Jamie sits there in the front pew with Dani’s hand enclosed in hers, she can’t help but wonder how their bosses had mastered the art of subtlety. Flora had always </span>
  <em>
    <span>insisted </span>
  </em>
  <span>that they must be “a thing,” and Jamie could never believe it, but now here they are. She’s no fan of fortune cookie cliches, but sometimes they’re irritatingly true: life really does work in mysterious ways.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cake comes afterward as promised, when the four of them walk back to Hannah and Owen’s townhome and sit in the dimly-lit dining room. Jamie has just polished off her second slice and is collecting strawberry-flavored crumbs on the outer tine of her fork when Dani sighs and says, as if they’re alone at home, “I need to tell you something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie’s eyes briefly flick over to Hannah and Owen, who are suddenly fascinated by their tea but obviously still listening. “Okay,” she says slowly, a gap of foreboding between the two syllables. Dani instinctively reaches out a thumb to wipe away frosting from Jamie’s chin, but she barely reacts, waiting for Dani to continue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani lets the pause last, biting at her knuckles until Jamie takes that hand and holds it instead. The fingers on Dani’s other hand find the teacup charm around her neck and close it in a fist. Then finally she explains, “A few weeks ago, I got a job offer out of the blue. I- I haven’t been sure how to tell you, though, because it’s... it’s back in the states.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first discernible emotion that hits Jamie is confusion. She needs to know more. She doesn’t feel her lips form the words when she asks, “Where in the states?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, Vermont. Northern Vermont.” Dani moves so that both of her hands are now touching Jamie’s. “It’s... an </span>
  <em>
    <span>incredible </span>
  </em>
  <span>opportunity, honestly, and... the only reason I would say no to it is— is if you don’t want to come with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(So, Vermont— that place in </span>
  <em>
    <span>White Christmas. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jamie has always been fascinated by Vermont thanks to that childhood favorite, but that would be the lesser of two reasons for her to move there.) </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie doesn’t mean to laugh, she just does. It’s from a place of disbelief, she thinks. Not disbelief that Dani is worthy of this, nor disbelief that this job is so far away from everything Jamie has ever known. It’s disbelief that </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jamie </span>
  </em>
  <span>is worthy, that she is capable of being cared about so deeply by someone, that Dani would deny herself something special if Jamie were to refuse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, useless mess that she is, all Jamie does out loud is laugh and mumble, “Well, no pressure there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani deflates a little, but not completely. “I- I know it’s crazy, and it’s a big decision, but it’s a decision I want to make with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie feels like she’s suspended in time (as opposed to </span>
  <em>
    <span>thyme). </span>
  </em>
  <span>If her life was a video game, the player would currently see a loading screen, the one that displays before a major cutscene, the one that displays after a big decision was made. Because the moment those words left Dani’s mouth, Jamie had made her choice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She often wonders what first crossed Dani’s mind when she happened to walk past Cafe Viola nearly a year ago, and saw that chronically-posted “Help Wanted” sign in the window. Desperation, probably. Low expectations are the foundation of a menial barista job. Comparing </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>to the feelings currently blossoming on Dani’s face now— roses in her cheeks, violets in her eyes, moonflowers in her hair— Jamie feels only the purest joy for her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah, there’s definitely no option here. Jamie has gotten to show </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> country to Dani. Now she wants to see where Dani comes from. (Although she thinks New England might actually be nowhere near the Midwest, but Jamie is no expert on American geography, who has time for that?)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie clears her throat, staring from their joined hands to those extraordinary blue eyes. “Dani, you know I want to go wherever you go.” Her nervous composure shatters with a shaky smile. “There’s no decision to make, really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You— you really wanna come with me?” Dani whispers, and Jamie nods. “Are you sure? It’s so far away, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to—”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes, </span>
  </em>
  <span>I’ll come with you. Of course I will. I’ll find something to do. I’m sure there’s plenty of coffee shops in Vermont.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Jamie, for god’s sake,” Hannah pipes up. Her tone is blunt, but her eyes are warm when Dani and Jamie turn to look at her. “I wish you would stop selling yourself so short,” she continues gently. “But I suppose now is as good a time as ever to tell you this—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” Jamie croaks, unsure how much more big news she can take today.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Congratulations are in order for </span>
  <em>
    <span>both</span>
  </em>
  <span> of you, actually,” Hannah says while Owen beams in agreement. “Being a little understaffed has its advantages. One such advantage is that I was able to match all of your paychecks for the past few years and set aside that money for the day you would be ready to confront your passion again.” She looks firmly at Jamie. “Jamie, all I ever wanted was for Cafe Viola to </span>
  <em>
    <span>help </span>
  </em>
  <span>you. The place was still brand new when I met and hired you, and I never could have imagined how much time and effort you would dedicate to that little coffee shop. Giving something back is the </span>
  <em>
    <span>least </span>
  </em>
  <span>I can do. And I’m not keen on telling you what to do with the money, but it would be wonderful to see The Leafling revived on American soil.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the only way we’ll visit you two,” Owen teases. “Oh, and you must promise to visit us in Paris. I mean, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Paris, </span>
  </em>
  <span>so I’m sure that’ll be hard to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>no </span>
  </em>
  <span>to...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannah chuckles. “That’s right. No need to give </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> your two week notice. We’ll also be moving, probably before the end of the year. I’ve been talking with Henry, and I might end up selling Cafe Viola to him. He’s the only one I would trust with it, really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani drops her jaw and says, “But how can the cafe go on without your baking, Owen? On second thought, how can </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>go on without it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Owen’s laugh is infectious, momentarily subduing the shock fizzing through Jamie’s system. “As much as I adore absorbing all your flattery, Dani, nothing can stop Paris. But don’t worry, I’ll still be baking on Instagram... in Paris. Obviously.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie’s head is spinning like a carousel gone rogue. She blinks hard despite knowing that there are already tears halfway down her face. Dani squeezes her hand, and she squeezes it back. “Thank you, Hannah,” she says. “I- I don’t even know what to say...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to say anything. All I want is for you to know the depth of my gratitude for all your hard work the last few years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time she and Dani return home soon after, Jamie feels like an entire lifetime has passed since this morning. They stumble into the flat still in a daydream. It’s dark, so Becca must still be closing up at the cafe with Flora.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re really doing it,” Jamie mutters, awestruck. “We’re finally leaving ol’ Viola behind.” She and Dani retreat to their bedroom, where their dressy outfits are peeled off and replaced by pajamas. “So I guess coming to London didn’t really work out, did it?” Dani peers over at her from across the bed. “You never found what you were looking for here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Dani says, nearly interrupting Jamie with the forcefulness of her reply. “No, I don’t agree. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>find an escape.” Pause. “And I found </span>
  <em>
    <span>you.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She circles around the foot of the bed, bringing Jamie into her arms. “I think I came here to find you. I just didn’t know it at first.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once again, Jamie is blinking away bothersome tears. “Who gave you the right to be so sappy, Poppins?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s your fault,” Dani says without missing a beat, and they both laugh quietly. “So... are you ready for this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Jamie answers honestly. “But I’ll be okay if you’re there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just you and me,” Dani tells her. Her eyes search for any lingering doubt on Jamie’s face, but Jamie knows she won’t find any. “It’s us... if that’s enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie leans in to press her forehead on hers, relishing in the feeling of their eyes sliding shut at the same time. “I reckon that’s enough for me, yeah.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Dani flies stateside alone for her interview, and finds out she got the job before she even boards the plane back to London. The next few weeks after that are a whirlwind of preparations and goodbyes. It’s bittersweet, but these aren’t the same goodbyes Dani faced when she left Iowa. It’s all lingering hugs, genuine </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll miss yous, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and promises of future visits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flora and Rebecca’s reactions to the news were, of course, unsurprising and very on-brand. As soon as Jamie finished explaining it, Flora had leaned in toward Rebecca, stared meaningfully at Jamie, and stage-whispered, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“U-Haul lesbian.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m fine with that label,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jamie responded with a shrug.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ll miss you both a lot,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Becca said. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s a shame we never got around to burning that ugly fur coat Peter got me.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani and Jamie exchanged a glance. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh no, there’s definitely still time for that,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dani replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When all is said and done, the transition isn’t that difficult. Belongings are packed (some more difficult to bring overseas than others), documents are filled out, and the searches for a decent home and car are practically effortless. (The trickiest part, in fact, is rehoming all of their big, impossible-to-move-between-countries plants. Luckily, Becca, Flora, and Miles undergo enough of Jamie’s How To Keep A Plant Alive tutorial to ease her concerns. Jamie also harvests several seeds to bring along to begin the next generation of her garden in Vermont, an unequivocal must for both of them.) All Jamie asks for is a little outdoor garden space, and Dani makes that her first priority, because that trellis and those moonflower seeds sure as hell aren’t going to waste.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, it seems like another year has passed by the time their new-to-them sedan rolls up to their little cottage that’s a ten-minute drive from Bly. Dani shuts off the car and lets out the breath she’s been holding ever since they got on the plane departing London. “We made it,” she says, turning her head to look at her least expected and most welcome companion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We made it, Poppins,” Jamie replies, grabbing Dani’s hand and waving it around exuberantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The car is filled with boxes, and there will be a truck coming with more tomorrow, but for now Dani only has a few things she wants to unpack: the tea set Owen gifted them as a going away present </span>
  <em>
    <span>(“You can’t lose everything England rubbed off on you!”) </span>
  </em>
  <span>and a photo frame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie jingles the keys as they walk up the gently curved pathway to the front door. Inside, the house feels spacious and endless the way empty new houses tend to feel— but with Jamie close beside her, it feels just as much like home as their little flat back in London did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wordlessly, Dani slips past her into the kitchen, where she gets to work making tea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Christening the house with our first mishap already?” Jamie hums, leaning into the room to watch her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani turns around and raises an eyebrow at her, effectively shutting Jamie up for the next couple minutes, and they shuffle around the compact kitchen in silence heavy with suspense. Jamie eventually lets go of her restlessness and leans against the wall, observing her girlfriend’s practiced and careful method.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At long last, Dani is satisfied with her result, though only a taste will tell if this is the moment she has been waiting for. With an eager hand, she pours out the brew into two cups, and stirs in the appropriate add-ins she knows by heart. Then, taking a deep breath, she nudges one of the cups across the counter to her waiting judge. Maybe the pressure should be lessened now that they no longer work at a coffee shop, but Dani isn’t surprised that her heart is in her throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She holds her own cup, which her anticipatory trembling transfers to, and watches as Jamie wiggles her eyebrows at her playfully and lifts the drink to her mouth. Of course, Jamie being Jamie, she takes her sweet time sipping, tasting, and swallowing. But that’s just fine— Dani knows that they have all the time in the world here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie is mute as she sets the cup back on the counter and slowly raises her eyes to meet Dani’s. “I...” she begins, as the hopeful drumroll hums in Dani’s blood. “I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a solid ten seconds, Dani and Jamie stare at each other, stunned by the revelation. Those three words are another brew that Dani has been trying to perfect for some time now, but she never imagined Jamie would be the first to speak them into existence. They have said it so many times now with their eyes and hands, so many nonverbal cues dropped to make it seem like they were spoken </span>
  <em>
    <span>before </span>
  </em>
  <span>the whole big intercontinental move thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After those ten seconds, though, Jamie seems to realize her impetuous admission and stammers out, “I- I mean— I love </span>
  <em>
    <span>it. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The tea, that is. I love—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani leaps forward and catches Jamie’s lips on hers, something she has been wanting to do for hours but hasn’t really been able to do in the confined spaces of planes and cars. “I’m glad you love the tea,” she says when they part, zero breath left between them. “And I’m glad you love me... because I love you too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie laughs. “Yeah, I think we’ve got a problem. I’m not sick of you, and I’m not sick of your tea, either. Actually, I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>in love with you, it turns out. I’d say I love you </span>
  <em>
    <span>too much,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but... I don’t think there’s any such thing as </span>
  <em>
    <span>too much</span>
  </em>
  <span> anymore. I just love you, Poppins. A lot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll never get tired of hearing you say that,” Dani whispers. Then she wriggles out of her arms, to which Jamie makes a whine of protest. She watches as Dani picks up the photo frame she’d brought in from the car, along with a nail and hammer. She positions the nail in a central location on what will be the living room wall and hammers it in (thankfully, this doesn’t result in the first mishap in the new house, either). Then Dani carefully hangs the familiar frame, and for the first time she lets Jamie see the picture inside of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a photo of Jamie, standing at the back door of Cafe Viola on the day of their last shift. The summer sun catches in her hair, and a cigarette dangles out of the corner of her smirking mouth, screwing up one of her eyes into a wink. Dani remembers taking the picture, already knowing what it would be for before it was even captured, but acting like it was just a silly shot for Instagram. It had been a quick break on a busy day, before they went back inside to face the rush, making orders and calling names like they’d been doing it their entire lives, sparing a few intimate seconds for only each other every time they shared a glance. Now, Dani stares at the encased memory for a while, but she doesn’t want their tea to get cold, so she turns around and grins at Jamie. Jamie, who wanted her to find and preserve something precious in that frame. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I found her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She rejoins Jamie in the kitchen, and they lean back against the counter together, drinking and thinking. Between every sip, eyes stray to each other, then flash away again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just—” Jamie starts suddenly, but it dissolves into laughter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Dani asks, brows raised and mouth open as she tries to understand. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You finally made drinkable tea </span>
  <em>
    <span>now, </span>
  </em>
  <span>when you’re no longer in England,” Jamie teases. They both can’t help but surrender to the humor of it, the kind of laugh that makes chests ache and cheeks hurt. When they’re able to settle down, Jamie taps her cup against Dani’s. “Cheers, baby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tea is a little lukewarm now, but when it touches Dani’s lips it tastes like her and Jamie and </span>
  <em>
    <span>home. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Cheers,” she says, and takes a drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should try making some coffee next.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Umm... let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”</span>
</p>
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